This Sure Ain't New Mexico
by tweedledee123
Summary: Basic Hot tamale, I got sucked into the movie! idea. But with a real plot line. Involves me and my best friend and our mission to get back home while being thrown into the POTC story unintentionally. Rated T because...well, just in case. And no pairings!
1. String Theory According to Me

AN: First I want to apologize profusely to the reader of _All For You_. There will not be an update anytime soon because I cannot seem to write the next chapter. Jack is being excessively stubborn, and Finn is about three times worse, refusing to be written the way I thought she should be.

So, for a late Christmas present, I am going to give you a new story, one that can be written pretty speedily because it is a self-insert, and I know how to write myself. I'll be updating this one regularly enough until I can figure out what I am going to do with Finn...maybe I'll give her some punishment for being so obstinant...

Anyways, this story is really just for fun, and I hardly see it as an amazing piece of literature. Just something to keep y'all amused for a while.

As always, enjoy!

* * *

I would have liked to have started this ever so amazing and astounding account of my adventures with some profound statement on human nature, or how I somehow managed to capture the heart of some gorgeous man, or explain how my destiny was thrust upon me and I became a great hero through my trials.  
There are three things wrong with those wishes.

One: I think about human nature in my head and it stays there. What I think about you is none of your business. And I tend to not be a very profound person. Generally, what I say is the truth and how I see the matter, or it is heavily sugar-coated to keep the other person from shooting me in the head. Big picture ideas are not my forte.

Two: I do not capture hearts, at least not on purpose. If I have, it was on accident. And if they are gorgeous, they are probably models and therefore have no capability of individual thought, which is usually a very big turn off. So the chances of me being with a gorgeous guy is very slim.

Three: First off, destiny is bogus. You might have the ability to be the next great president, but that does not mean your destiny is to be president. You could just as easily become the friendly electrician next door that is fantastic at understanding the political machine we call government. And as for becoming a hero, well, everyone is a hero in one way or another. Everyone is going to have trials, which automatically makes everyone a hero. There are just some people that are lucky enough to get publicized for it.

So instead of anyone of these stories, you are going to get my version, which is the whole truth and nothing but the truth, according to _me_. And because I am the one writing this, everything I say is going to be right.

So deal with it.

Now, this amazing and astounding adventure did not start out in any particularly amazing or astounding fashion. In fact, it was rather soggy and frustrating and put me in a generally cranky mood for the first few hours. But let's start at the beginning.

However, we must take a moment for introductions. First, there is me. Evalyn. Last name isn't important. Generally, I don't go by my full name, seeing as it is such a mouthful to say. Evalyn. Three whole syllables. So I am called Lyn. Simple, easy to remember, and only one syllable. Some people do call me Eva, but that's two syllables. And it seems less sophisticated.

There is also no need for me to explain myself to you, nor give you a long and detailed explanation on how I react in situations, or what my characteristics are; I am giving you permission to judge me and my traits as the story progresses.

Second is my best friend, Allison Margaret. Her last name isn't important either. I also regret to inform you that I will neglect to provide you with a long list of traits for her. Let it suffice to say she is loud, friendly, outgoing, and short. That fact is only important because I am tall.

I suppose it is important to provide you with a list of physical traits, however; mostly because I don't want you seeing me as a drop dead gorgeous blonde bombshell, or my friend as the ugly step-sister.

First, I am not blonde, I am the darkest brunette that hair can get. People have often mistaken it for black, which I find extremely amusing because in the sun it looks red. How they get black from red, I'll never know. Second, I am not drop-dead gorgeous. I will agree with pretty, but not cute. Pretty. Like all teenagers I have acne and blackheads, and my face is far from flawless. Oh, and I have freckles. When I was younger, it looked like that splatter painting by Pollock, but most have faded so now I only have a trail of them across my nose and cheeks. I also have dark blue eyes. Thankfully, no one has mistaken these for black. Yet. Third, I am not a bombshell. They are bombs that explode, according to So there.

Meg, as I commonly refer to her, is short. Unlike my hair, hers is a lighter brown that is probably never mistaken for another color. Also unlike me, her skin is tan with no freckles, and she had deep big brown eyes. Now, while my characteristics seem to have some color issues, it is amusing to note that Meg's ethnicity has been mistaken more times than can be counted. Some of my favorites are: Jewish, Hispanic, Native American, Indian, Pakistani, Cuban, Spanish, and Latino. She is in fact Swedish.

But that is enough talk about nothing. From here on out, I will no longer be addressing you, the reader. I will be telling the story, and if I do put a 'you' in there, it is either a mistake, or what I am telling you is important, and will be put in parenthesis.

And so, here is my amazing and astounding adventure.

It was a cloudy day, but without the promise of rain, as most New Mexican storms start out. However, it did bring comfort in the form of a less heated temperature, and a crisp wind that ruffled my hair.

Actually, ruffled is an understatement. It completely demolished it.

My perfectly curled and pampered hair was nothing more than a rat's nest. No comb could possibly get through. Remember what happened to that brush in Princess Diaries? Yeah, that's what I mean. If there is anything I am vain about, it is my hair, and consequently, my mood took a turn for the worse. But not that much.

Of course, track practice had not improved it, though my hair was sufficiently ruined before the 3:30 starting time. In an attempt to keep it decent, I had brought it up into a ponytail.

And so I was at my white truck, Hidalgo (yes, I named my car), with Meg, seated comfortably in the bed of it. We were waiting, actually, _I_ was waiting, for my brother to eventually emerge from the locker-room so we could go home. Meg, the wonderful friend she is, was waiting with me.

Now the place I live is an intellectual, scientific place with the highest PhD concentration in the country, and also happens to be placed in the middle of nowhere (if you are smart and know anything about US history, you know which place I refer to. If you don't, learn. It's important). With this unique atmosphere and general displacement from society, kids here had an odd habit of having true intellectual conversations. I am not exempt from this.

"You've heard of string theory, right?" I asked off-hand.

Meg shrugged. "I think I've heard people talk about it some. Mostly from "The Adams." Why?"

"The Adams" are actually two separate boys, both named Adam, who are both abnormally smart. They enjoy calling themselves "The Molecule". (You must also be familiar with chemistry to understand this joke. If you aren't, shame on you.)

"Oh, I saw a really cool special on it this weekend," I continued excitedly. "You know how there's that whole 'thousands of universes wherever we are' idea? Well, they've been doing research, and some scientists are suggesting that some of the universes are peoples' imagination."

Meg looked at me blankly before frowning. "The different universes are imaginations…that doesn't make sense."

"People thought the world was flat, and lo and behold, it was actually round. It didn't make sense to them, but it's the truth. Think of the possibilities, though!"

"I don't really want people going into my head."

"They didn't really expand on it in the documentary, but I think that instead of imagination, it's stories. Like ones that have been published. Like…C.S. Lewis or something."

My friend grinned. "Well then... _that_ would be pretty sweet."

"Uh, yeah! So many stories would be real. Factual! If only we could get to those other universes…if we wanted to, we could travel to Star Wars!"

"Lord of the Rings!"

We squealed together.

Let me clarify this was not a girly squeal that infers that we were thinking about Orlando Bloom or Harrison Ford. This was an excited squeal that meant we thought it would be awesome to be in those stories. Trust me, there is a difference.

"That would be pretty much amazing," sighed Meg, leaning back casually.

"Of course, that just String Theory according to me. And there really isn't any way to prove anything. This is just all the scientists speculating."

"I don't suppose they thought of a way to arrive in these alternate universes."

"Actually, they did," I continued. "I mean, they didn't figure out a portal or anything like that, but they did say that if such a thing would occur, it would need massive amounts of energy."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Even I could have thought that one up. What type of energy?"

"Enough to rearrange the atoms and transfer them through the gravity and light."

"You lost me."

"Well, the basis of string theory is that gravity is actually the strongest force. They did some weird calculations to figure that one out, but anyways, they determined that because it is so weak here, it must be spread out among other universes. And so some scientists thought it might be the same for light. Whatever the case, the energy needs to be strong enough to move the atoms."

"Doesn't the energy stay in its own universe though?"

"Light is energy. So, theoretically, it can move between. According to the scientists."

Meg laughed. "According to the scientists. And we see how far that usually goes. Look at this place. We may have one of the best schools in the state, but we can't have a decent restaurant that stays open past eight at night. And we can't manage to get a big box store here either, even though we have enough people to support one. All because the scientists can't freakin' agree on anything but science."

We both laughed at this sad truth. Our town had nothing in the way of activities, night or otherwise. The best thing to happen all year was the Homecoming Parade. It was just that pathetic.

Meg watched the oncoming storm with interest. Now, unlike about ten minutes ago, it appeared that there just might be rain. And lots of it.

Yay for New Mexico weather. Where you can have a snow storm in April and seventy five degree weather in the middle of January. It's just that cool.

"You think lightening would be energetic enough?"

I rolled my eyes. "Plenty of people have been struck by lightening, and none have disappeared."

"What if like five different bolts were to hit at once?"

"You would be a crisp."

"Ten?"

"I still think you'd be fried."

"Twenty?"

"The chances of that ever happening are…well, pretty much miniscule."

Meg huffed indignantly. "You can be so technical, Lyn. These nerds are rubbing off on us."

I laughed. "What can I say. Honestly, I don't think it's lightening at all. Maybe some new obscure form of energy. And I think it would probably kill us."

"What if we were protected by something? Like a time-machine?"

"You just want to be in LOTR."

She shrugged, but smiled widely. "What can I say. Hey look, your brother emerges."

"Finally," I grumbled, leaping smoothly from the bed and jumping into the car. "Get on in, Meg, I'll drive you to your car."

"Which is only across the over-pass. But fine, I don't feel like walking right now, not after all the sprints coach made us do today. Ugg…three sets of three two-hundreds. I honestly think that's the worst one all year."

"No, five-four-three-two-one is. 100 sprints."

Meg laughed. "Whatever. Coach just wants to make us miserable."

"I agree."

We sat in the truck, watching impatiently as my brother slowly walked toward it, stopping to talk to his friends for a moment. "What is he doing?" I growled. "I am here and waiting to go home. And I happen to have homework."

"Try honking."

I did as suggested, and he looked up, only to make a face and keep talking.

"My word! Did you see that?" I gasped, pointing toward him madly.

"Calm down, Lyn," giggled Meg. "We could just drive away on him and--_what the!_"

I glanced out her window in time to see a dazzling flash of light that enveloped the car, knocking me backwards and making my skin tingle and itch uncontrollably. Then suddenly, it seemed that I, in fact, had _no_ skin, that I was simply a thought or a memory…it wasn't painful, but vague, and it felt as if time had no power in the place I was. All at once I was me again, body and all. For a split second I could see green and blue, both of which were replaced by the black of unconsciousness.


	2. Knowing Where we're Lost

AN: Thank you for the reviews, everybody! And kudos to Rokahl, who said they liked the OC's...just so y'all know, this is a self-insert of me and my best friend.

Oh, and as a quick side note about String Theory...yes, it is real theory, but I REALLY twisted it around so it could fit the story. If you want to learn more about it, you can go to the PBS website and search it.

And, once again, enjoy!

* * *

I woke up to the sun shining on my eyes, a bright, hot sun that burned. Squinting painfully, I sat up, feeling my face cautiously, and staring down at the steering wheel my cheek had previously been resting on. I felt together. No body parts seemed to be missing or broken. There wasn't any blood. And I didn't have a headache, like one would expect after fainting. Then again, I had never fainted before. Great, now my perfect record was ruined.

I then proceeded to look at Meg, who appeared to also be unconscious. Hesitantly, I poked her, and yelped in fright when she opened her eyes. "What?" she asked sleepily. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I answered. "I just…never mind. Why were you sleeping?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up."

"I wasn't asleep."

Meg frowned. "Of course I knew _that_. But I checked to make sure you were breathing and all that first aid stuff, and you were fine. So I waited. What time is it?"

I cocked an eyebrow at the question. "You think the clock works after…whatever just happened?"

"It did last time I tried."

Turning the key, which happened to still be in the ignition, I looked at the clock as it faintly read 7:59 pm.

"Hm…about an hour has passed."

I looked out the window at the sun, which was set at roughly five pm. "My clock is off."

"No," said Meg, "I think it's right. But whatever just happened…all I remember is a flash, and then…this. You too?"

"Yep. Lets get out. I'm roasting."

We stepped out of Hidalgo and onto moist green turf. The air, was humid, stuffy, and all together extremely uncomfortable for a person who has lived in a dry climate all their life, namely, me.

I absolutely hate humidity. If I had a list, it would be one of the top five. But I don't have enough time to make such a list because I am a high school student who struggles to keep decent grades in all her classes.

I know it supposedly keeps your skin nice and soft and whatever, and that it keeps you from having chapped lips and dry throats, but I'd rather have all of those instead of suffocating from the air. Yes, that's exactly what it feels like to me. I once took a trip to Mississippi and couldn't breathe the entire time. _Texas_ is humid to me.

Enough of my rambling. Back to the story.

Anyway, the air was definitely humid. I thought I heard the sound of the ocean, but all I could see was forest and green.

"This sure ain't New Mexico," I mumbled. Meg nodded mutely.

Now, aside from the obvious fact we were no longer in the high school parking lot, there was one thing that tipped me off that we were no longer in New Mexico. It was this: everything was _green_.

I am now going to give you Geography in New Mexico for Dummies. Essentially, everything _brown_. The dirt is brown, the grass is brown, the bushes tend to be brown, and most trees are dead and brown. Only three things are not brown. The first is juniper, which has a bright green color that rapidly fades when out in the sun for a long time. It is this bush that populates most of New Mexico, and subsequently makes all the residents miserable. Almost everyone is allergic to the juniper bush, and if you aren't yet, you will be.

The second is pine trees. There are many of these in the mountains, and actually, the mountains tend to be pretty all during the year, except were I live. About six years ago, a fire swept through and burned down all of the scenery we have. So now I get to look at a charred mountain instead of a pine-green one.

The third are the aspens. However, there is a very minimal number of these, and none where I can see. They are usually in the high mountains, and as I just said, my mountains were burned.

Now that you have that lovely picture of my home in your mind, it must be obvious that I saw mostly brown. To have green, green, and more green was, to say the least, quite the shock to my system. As if I hadn't had enough of those today.

"Where do you think we are?" murmured Meg.

"No idea," I sighed. "But it's not home, and I'm worried."

"Well, at least we're alive."

"Yeah," I answered weakly. I hopped onto the truck and sat down to think. Meg came over and looked at me worriedly, but said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. We were far away from anywhere we were familiar with, and frankly, I had no idea how it had happened. It was terrible.

"I think we need to go explore a little," said Meg after a moment. "Then we can decide what to do next."

"Okay." I jumped out, glad of something to distract me, and, of all things, grabbed my backpack. Meg raised her eyebrows. "Might have something we need," I explained.

"I doubt we're going to need a Pre-Cal book out here."

"I mean first aid."

Meg laughed, then grabbed her backpack. "Good idea. Lets go."

We set off, then I ran back to get my keys, Meg was laughing so hysterically that I was worried about my truck getting stolen in the middle of the forest. Despite the fact we were lost in a gigantic forest far away from civilization, both of us had somehow not forgotten our sense of good humor. And, despite the fact that we were in danger of something drastic happening, I was far from being scared. I was with Meg; so I was going to be fine.

To say the least, I was very glad I was still in my track outfit: short-sleeve shirt, shorts, and sturdy running shoes. If I had been in anything else, I would have roasted. Heck, I felt like I was roasting anyways. Sweat dripped down my neck in sheets, and I was sure I was as red as a tomato. Looking over at Meg, I saw she fared little better.

"So," she huffed after thirty minutes of walking. "How do you think we got here?"

"I think we need to know where here is," I answered. "We have decided that it certainly isn't the high school, nor New Mexico for that matter."

"An excellent start to our investigation, Sherlock," said Meg, smiling at the look I gave her. "We also know that this must be somewhere tropical."

"And therefore utterly unbearable."

"Think what the kids at home will think when we say we were magically transported to Tahiti…"

"That we're loco," I muttered under my breath.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Well…let's be glad for a few things in stead of being cynical."

"That wasn't cynical, that was practical."

"Ugg…Lyn, you can be so technical some times! Whatever, I just need to think of things to stop me from freaking out, because technically, none of this should have happened."

"Now who's being technical…"

Meg rolled her eyes again, but smiled. "Okay, fine. Whatever. What can we be grateful for?"

"I feel like I am being interrogated by a priest."

"Just say something!"

"We are not dead." Meg, for the third time, rolled her eyes at my comment. "Fine," I sighed, "what else can we be happy for? I know! My car wasn't totaled."

This, time Meg laughed. "You care about that car too much."

"It's my freedom," I explained. "I can go anywhere I want with that car."

"Except this forest." I snorted at the comment, but said nothing in return. "Okay, my turn. The weather is good."

As if to mock her, the sky thundered loudly and large, wet drops of water began to pelt us. "I think you have just jinxed us," I mused softly.

Meg narrowed her eyes threateningly, but when I raised my eyebrows in defense, she began to laugh. "Fine, I jinxed us. Let's just find somewhere dry."

Our good humor disappeared as we trudged through the damp forest. Everything seemed to be soaked; the ground was soaked, the trees were soaked, even the rocks were soaked. Oh, not to mention that _we_ were soaked, along with our backpacks that were getting heavier by the minute.

We said nothing, but continued to fight our way through the torrential down pour that _never_ happened back home. It was at this point that I decided I truly, without a doubt, hated the tropics. Even if it was Tahiti.

After another hour of steady walking, Meg squealed with delight, shaking my shoulder happily. I, who had been looking down, glanced up to see lights. Lots of them.

"Civilization!" I gasped, my teeth chattering like a wind-up toy.

"Come on!" Meg insisted, shoving me forward. "I bet there will be a hotel or something that we can go into. With warm blanets. A heater. And phones! We can call our parents!"

With the thoughts of warm blankets and communication on our minds, we jogged the rest of the way to the town, grinning despite our misery and general discomfort.

The grins lasted until about ten steps into the town, when we discovered something was wrong.

Very wrong.

"These buildings are…old," whispered Meg.

Actually, age wise, they weren't old at all, but very new and pristine. However, the style would have dated to around the early sixteen hundreds to the late seventeen hundreds. I stopped walking, letting the rain pour down my face and freezing legs to take a closer look. The paint was new, and wood wasn't rotting. Wherever we were, people lived here.

"Lyn, I'm freezing."

The sky was too dark to see Meg, but I could tell she was shivering, as was I. "Okay, let's just go inside somewhere."

"What do you think this place is?"

I forced my mind to think past the cold that enveloped me. "Maybe it's some type of living museum, like Jamestown or Williamsburg. People dress in colonial dress and are in colonial houses. That would explain the condition of the buildings, and why the style is so strange."

"That makes sense. Let's go try that house."

We lumbered up to the door that Meg pointed to and she knocked.

Soon footsteps were heard, and faint voices asking questions shrilly. "Who would be out in this whether?! I ask, who?" The voice was that of a old lady, bad tempered most likely. I winced at the thought of our very future meeting.

The door swung open, and a little girl of about ten stared up at us, holding a flickering candle, standing behind her a frumpy, scowling hunchbacked lady.

I could feel my heart stop beating. These people were not re-enactors; that I could tell from the way they held themselves and the looks on their faces. The house looked most definitely 'lived in' instead of being use from ten until five every week day. Something was wrong.

"Who are you?" snapped the lady. "Theresa, hold the light closer so I can get a good look at them." The little girl obeyed the order, and the lady took one look at us and screamed. "You are practically running around in nothing! Theresa shut the door! I don't allow prostitutes in my house!"

"Wait!" begged Meg lunging forward to stop the door. "We aren't prostitutes! We're lost! Please let us in!"

"You want to know where you are? Port Royal, a place for decent citizens that don't allow loitering of bad influences! Go away now!" With that the door slammed in Meg's face, and I could hear her crying quietly.

"How could anyone be so cruel?" she sobbed. "Couldn't she see that we were cold and…and lost?"

My own eyes were quickly becoming wet with more than rain, but I wiped everything away and helped Meg stand up. "Come on, we need to find somewhere dry."

"None of the other houses will let us in, not if they're like that lady!" Suddenly, Meg became mad, her eyes glaring daggers at whatever happened to be in the way. "I can't believe how rude they were! And at a museum! But, Lyn, this place doesn't look like anything like Jamestown." She turned to me, her brain working. "This isn't right. Things don't make sense. What happened to us, Lyn? Where in the world are we?"

"First thing first. We need to find somewhere warm, or at least dry."

We searched around for twenty minutes, trying a few more houses, where we got roughly the same response as before. Finally, we found a run down building which had no one in it, and we sat down, both blue and trembling. Meg had recovered from her outburst earlier, and now was frowning.

"I don't understand why they kept calling us…prostitutes. We look nothing like that! All we are is lost! How can they not see that? And the way they reacted! No one would just kick out a prostitute because they are one!"

I sighed, leaning against a bushel of hay wearily. Now that we were out of the rain, the weather of the tropics was paying off, and we were both slowly thawing in the warm humidity. "I think they thought we were whores because our legs and ankles were showing. Like, really showing."

Meg stared at me like I had hallucinated. "They're just shorts and a t-shirt! It's just a running outfit! Everyone sees those nowadays!"

"I don't think we are in 'nowadays', Meg."

"What are you saying? That we time traveled? That's impossible."

"Meg, that lady said we were in Port Royal. In 1692, an earthquake sunk two thirds of the city, and it was later replaced by Kingston."

"Lyn, this doesn't make sense. I'm scared."

"So am I," I whispered. "But we're safe, for now. I don't think anyone is going to try and kill us. That's always a plus. And we now know where we're lost."

Meg looked at me in exasperation, then smiled. "I suppose it's good to know that."

"I'd say," I mumbled before drifting off to sleep.


	3. Not Like the History Books

AN: So, this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but consider it a intermission between the arrival and the start of the adventures...because I can assure you that the next chapter will be VERY long...

Thank you so much to all the reviewers! And thank you to those mentioning it seemed realistic...that was what I was aiming for, so I can now say my mission is complete.

Oh, and I forgot do my disclaimer at the beginning, so I am doing it now.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own POTC or anything related, characters, merchendise, soundtracks, plush dolls etc. But you already knew this. I do, however own myself...and while I don't own my friend, I have lease to write her in the story. I also own any modern materials that I say I own in the story...because I do. I just don't actually own the companies, like Microsoft and Nike.

And despite its short length...enjoy!

* * *

I woke up with a nasty runny nose, and was extremely grateful I had brought my backpack, which had plenty of tissues. 

Which also happened to be soaked. And therefore the tissues were utterly useless.

Grumbling, I wiped my nose on my arm, sniffing back as much snot as I could, grimacing as I did it. Ugh. Now I had a cold, and I was lost in Port Royal, which technically no longer existed due to a earthquake in 1692. How miserable.

"You okay, Lyn?"

I looked over at Meg, who stretched royally as she sat up. "I'm fine, just have a cold."

Meg sniffed as well. "Must be from last night."

"Must be." I looked through the cracks of the buildings, listening to the bustle outside. People were everywhere, talking, laughing, trading. It sounded much like a regular town.

Except they all had English accents.

And were dressed like they belonged in 'Little Women' or something like that.

Frowning, I sat back and looked at Meg wearily. "We're going to have to go out there again."

"I don't feel like being called a prostitute."

"Me neither."

"Should we go back to your car?"

"I don't even remember where it is."

"Right." Meg sighed and looked through the cracks as well, then watched me expectantly. "What should we do?"

I shook my head slowly. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"Neither do I."

"Sitting here isn't going to do much good."

"No."

We sat there quietly for a moment, not looking at each other, but both thinking the same daunting thought: what was going to happen to us?

Meg stood up suddenly, towering over me impatiently. "Well, let's get out of _here_. It stinks like cow manure."

"Actually, I think it's horse."

Meg fixed a exasperated stare on me, and, chuckling, I stood up as well. "Should we take our backpacks?"

"Do we need them?"

"Well," I reasoned, "if we are truly back in time, which it appears we are, think of the problems that could be caused at the finding of an ipod."

"Good point. Yuck," she grimaced, poking her own pack disgustingly, "they're still wet."

"Humidity," I grumbled, putting my own pack on my back. "Maybe they'll dry out as the sun hits them."

"You probably just jinxed us again."

Our eyes met, and for the first time in awhile (for us, anyways) we laughed. "Ready?" I asked.

"I am always ready."

So we stepped out into the blistering sun, squinting as we adjusted to the sudden change of light. People were actually just starting the day, many rubbing their eyes tiredly, grumbling at the heat or the lack of clouds. Once again I was glad for my shorts and shirt.

Until we started receiving those dirty looks again.

But after awhile, and many crude statements later, both of us were essentially immune to anyone who dare complain against us, usually just ignoring them. Instead, we spent the time studying the place we were in.

It was large…ish. Actually, where I live is considered relatively small where everyone knows practically everyone else. This Port Royal was much smaller, but with the lack of cars, most likely rather large.

The biggest change was the absence of modern noise. I doubt anyone notices the roar of traffic anymore, but it was glaringly obvious here. And so was the lack of streetlights, and stop signs, and sidewalks, and paved streets. And real glass windows instead of the foggy stuff that no one can see through anyways.

That was about the time we passed a bulletin, filled with all amounts of posters and wanted signs and classifieds (or, what we could consider classifieds. I have no idea what they called them, nor do I particularly care). Nothing written on them was interesting, except for one thing.

The date.

1710.

After doing a double take, I ran over to gape at the posters. Many still read 1710.

"1710?" I gasped, scratching at them, just to see if it was some horrid prank. "That can't be right! The earthquake was 1692!"

"What's wrong?" asked Meg, running up beside me.

"The date! This isn't right!"

Meg studied them, turning her head to look at me in confusion. "1692," I repeated.

She watched me blankly, then went wide-eyed, turning back to the posters. "The earthquake! It's not…what's wrong?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you sure you have the date right?"

"I'm positive! My brother told me!"

(Note: My brother is a genius. Aside from his endless talking and his addiction to the computer, he spends his time reading…everything. Ask him a question, he will know the answer. It is almost sickening…but usually quite useful.)

"Oh." Meg stared at the posters with me, stony faced and slightly frantic. I, on the other hand, was hyperventilating, clutching my sides and _trying_ to calm down. She took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly, despite the fact it was trembling too. "We're going to be fine. We aren't dead or injured."

"Right."

"We're together."

"Right." I closed my eyes, trying to understand everything. 1710. That was after the earthquake, and this colony certainly didn't look like it had suffered one in the past eighteen years. That meant only one thing. "We didn't go back in time," I mumbled softly.

"What?"

"We didn't go back in time. This isn't like the history books at all."

"How else can we explain this?"

"I don't know, but we didn't go back in time. The earthquake wouldn't just disappear because we appeared. That doesn't even logically make sense."

"Nothing about this is logical. We were struck by a large bolt of…light and appeared here."

"Bolt of light." I whispered. "Bolt of light!"

"Lyn…that was all just theory," explained Meg, taking my arm. "The scientists didn't prove anything."

"But it would explain _everything_!" I exclaimed. "If this was just someone's imagination, then Port Royal wouldn't _have_ to have been destroyed by an earthquake! And another thing I remembered reading: Port Royal was a scum bag of a place before the disaster, a haven for pirates and thieves alike. But have you seen any of those types of characters? No! All army officers! And normal people! It _makes sense_!"

Now, I love when things make sense, so, as I realized this, I consequently began jumping up and down excitedly, clapping, and squealing to the point of hysteria.

Okay, maybe not the squealing part, but I sure felt like doing that.

Naturally, this made people stared at us like we were lunatics. The only comfort I found in this was that we were not, in fact, crazy, but perfectly sane with an absolutely sensible explanation as to why we were here. It was bliss.

"Okay, say we are in some story or something. Which story is this?"

I stopped and stared around, thinking hard. But nothing came to mind. This may have been due to the overdose of shock I had been given in the past twelve hours, or my brain decided it was a good time to stop functioning, because I stared at the streets blankly, then back at Meg, shrugging. "Don't know."

"Right. This will be great fun if we have no idea where we are."

"We don't have to be part of the story."

"Why not?" asked Meg, then suddenly, she grew very white. "What happens when the story ends? Does the…universe end?"

I too, at the question, became very white. "I don't know."

"Okay," she said. "Lets not freak out or anything like that. We can figure this out. We are two smart girls. Right?"

"Of course," I breathed, clutching my head. "I think…we need to take a bath."

Meg's eyebrows raised. "What?"

"We smell like manure, and I can't take it any more. The bath will help clear my head."

"And where do you propose we take this bath?"

I pointed to the ocean, which we could see clearly. "That is the biggest bathtub we are ever going to find." Smiling, we headed down there, despite the worries that now clung over our heads. But we were together, and going to figure this out. After all, we were rational, smart, intelligent young ladies.


	4. The Start of an Accidental Adventure

AN: So...this was a pretty fun chapter to write. And it's long. So when I don't update for another week, you will all remember this.

I attempted to stay pretty close to the original script for this part. Meg and Lyn aren't a huge part...though later in the story I will have to make up new dialogue...not quite looking forward to that.

But, despite the fact that many of you probably have most of this memorized already, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"I'm going to get you!" shrieked Meg as she wiped her face. Then, bringing her hand up, she sent a wave of water toward me, which hit me full in the mouth. 

I laughed heartily, ducking down to smooth my hair out, then coming to the surface. We were by the docks, backpacks and shoes resting on the wooden planks. There had been no one over here, so, seeing the lack of adults and general company, we decided that this would be an excellent spot to take out bath. The water was warm and very clear (another plus about no pollution), and it was just the right place to goof off like the normal teenagers we were.

"Oh! Look at this! A crab!" I reached down below me to snatch it up. Crabs were something of a novelty for me; just about anything to do with the ocean was. So I was a little shocked when it attempted to pinch me.

Meg just laughed. "Lyn against the crab…who will win?"

"Better than Meg against the bleachers. Who won that round?" I mocked, laughing at her scowling expression. The event I was referring to was when Meg had fallen off…one step of the bleachers at school. And broke her foot. This incident cause "The Adams" ("The Molecule") endless hours of humor when mentioned. Meg hated being reminded.

"Just you wait, Evalyn, and you will have the same thing happen to you."

"We'll see."

Sighing, I leaned back soaking up the sun, which was of course rudely stopped by another splash across my face. "Ugh, Meg! I was sunbathing!" I insisted, sitting up, but smiling at my own comment. I don't 'sunbath', I burn.

However, it was not Meg who had splashed me. Instead, two red-coated soldiers stood there, watching me with a mix of horror and insult written on their face. Meg was quickly exiting the water, ringing out her wet hair.

"Get out you. No civilians allowed on the docks."

I gaped, and a sharp jab from the butt end of the other's musket reminded me to remove myself from the water. "Who are you?" I asked, still staring.

"Don't matter. Though, I would like to know why two…young ladies," at this statement, the fat one looked at us in disgust (the shorts again, I am sure), "are doing here?" finished the skinny one.

"Taking a bath," offered Meg after a pause.

"A likely story. Get on before we arrest you."

"What?" she said. "Arrested? We didn't even know!"

"Come on, Meg," I grumbled. "Lets just leave."

Meg huffed and glared at the two men, who were looking a little guilty, but then whipped back around. "Why do we have to leave, and that man over there can stay?"

I turned to see who she was talking about, and my heart nearly stopped.

No, it was not because of how insanely hot the man was. I honestly could have cared less.

It was because I recognized him. And I now knew exactly where we were.

"Meg," I said, nearly choking on my own shock, "That's…Jack Sparrow."

She looked up again, and blinked a couple times before her eyes grew big. "You're right!"

"We're in Pirates of the Caribbean," I gasped. "That's the story we're in."

Meg looked up at me. "At least now we know." I nodded.

"You there!" shouted the fat one, running forward, with the skinny one behind. Sparrow stopped to study both. "This dock is off limit to civilians."

"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately," he promised, looking around superciliously, and then his gaze fell on us. He stared, actually gaped, at us (excuse me, our _legs_), before looking back at the two soldiers. "Look! I found some!"

"We already know about them," explained the skinny one.

Jack frowned and looked at us again. "Well, they look like civilians to me, and _they're_ staying here."

"We were about to arrest them," explained the fat one.

At this, Meg's face grew red with anger. "Arrest us? For what? We were going to be leaving, right now in fact!"

"One," started the skinny one, taking Meg's arm, "for talking back to a navy officer, and two, for running around in public in indecent apparel."

"This isn't indecent! This is just a running outfit! And I wasn't talking back at all! We were _leaving_."

The fat one grabbed my arm as well. "Come along, miss. No need to make a scene as well."

"What about him?" I asked, pointing toward Jack, who was attempting to sneak aboard the _Interceptor_.

"Hey, you there!"

Jack stopped, smiling at all four of us as the soldiers dragged Meg and me along with them. "I thought you were going to arrest these fine young ladies."

"Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians," answered the fat one. I raised my eyebrow at the statement, trying to see how he intended to arrest us while still keeping watch at the docks.

"It's a fine goal to be sure but it seems to me that a…a ship like that makes this one here a bit superfluous, really." He pointed toward the _Dauntless_ before looking back at the men. "Not to mention you have these two lovely women here to take to the jail, most definitely more dangerous than one of me."

Meg snorted.

"Ah, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough, but there's no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed," explained the skinny one.

"I've heard of one, supposed to be very fast, nigh un-catchable…the Black Pearl."

"Well…there's no _real_ ship that can match the Interceptor," said the fat one.

"The Black Pearl is a real ship," insisted the skinny one.

"No, no it's not."

"Yes it is, I've seen it," Meg muttered under her breath, while rolling her eyes.

The skinny one looked down at her oddly. "I was just going to say that. Have you seen the _Black Pearl_ too?"

"Uh…" Meg glanced over at me. I was giving the death sign (cutting across the neck. You know it). Jack was staring at me suspiciously, yet with a hint of amusement. "Of course! I wouldn't lie about that," she finished

"See!" exclaimed the skinny one triumphantly, shaking her arm. "Some one else has seen it!"

"Easy on the arm," she said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack inching away.

"You've both seen a ship with black sails, that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?"

"No."

Meg remained silent.

"What about you, lass?"

She looked up at my captor fearfully, then back at me. This wasn't how the story was suppose to be going. But it was fixable still.

I cleared my throat and tapped the man on the shoulder. "He's getting away."

Both men looked over at the _Interceptor._ "Hey! You! Get away from there." Releasing us, they headed toward the ship, guns out and pointed.

We both looked at each other, shrugged, and bent down to retrieve our backpacks. "You suppose we should leave now?" Meg asked quietly.

"Probably. These kind of stories are usually more fun when you're watching them on a big screen TV."

She laughed as she swung the backpack onto her back. "Why do you say that? You've always wanted an adventure."

I looked at the ocean, and then back to the fumbling soldiers as they told Jack to step away from the wheel. "I already know how this adventure is going to turn out. It's not much fun if I do."

"If we join, how will you know how it goes?"

"I don't," I sighed, but then swallowed as doubt crept into my head. "What if we can't get home?"

"Don't say that, Lyn."

"That's more important than having an adventure," I answered. "It will probably be enough of an adventure just figuring it out."

Meg smiled. "Always sensible. It's a good thing I have you here, or I just might have run off."

At the comment, I laughed. "I would too, if I wasn't so concerned about what my parents were thinking. Lets go."

"You there! Don't move!"

We turned to see the fat one pointing his gun at us as he trotted over. "Now what?" growled Meg, looking up at him accusingly.

"You can't leave. We've still got to arrest you."

"For what! My clothes? What about freedom of speech, hm? Maybe I'm trying to say something by wearing these shorts. Like how women shouldn't be arrested for not putting themselves in a straightjacket!"

The man stared at her. "Freedom of speech? Straightjacket? What are you talking about, miss?"

"Bill of Rights…Constitution…" I muttered to Meg. "They don't have them…"

"Oh. Right." She smiled sweetly up at the man. "Listen. We'll go away and will get some decent clothes. You don't arrest us. Does that work?"

"Get on up there with that man. We are going to be bringing you down to the jail as soon as we're done with Mr. Smith."

"Who?"

"The man on the ship. Now go!" He jabbed us with the bayonet, not too roughly, but enough to make us move toward the _Interceptor_. I clutched the straps of my backpack, scowling slightly, but nothing more, as we lumbered up the plank and onto the ship. Jack was watching our approach with interest, and cocked an eyebrow when the soldier sat us down between them on a bench.

"This is completely pointless," I muttered under my breath. I got another definite jab in my side.

"Okay, now that we have these young ladies under control, since you so kindly pointed out they were leaving," began the fat one, "we can finish our interrogation. What's your purpose in Port Royal , Mr. Smith?"

"We weren't out of control to begin with!" exclaimed Meg, standing up to face the soldier.

"Sit down, miss," ordered the skinny one.

Meg opened her mouth to argue some more, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her down, shaking my head. The soldiers turned once again to Jack Sparrow. "And no lies," insisted the skinny one.

"Well, then, I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out!"

"I said no lies!"

"I think he's telling the truth," muttered the fat one.

"If he were telling the truth, he wouldn't have told us."

"Unless, of course, he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you," interjected Jack, a smile on his face.

The two soldiers looked at each other blankly. "Listen, Mr. Smith…"

I turned to Meg, who was still fuming, as the two men tried to explain the situation to Jack. "Let's wait for a while, and we can escape."

"What are you talking about?" she whispered.

"Remember in the movie, when Elizabeth falls into the water?"

"Yeah."

"We can leave then. All three of them will be too distracted to pay attention to us slipping away. We'll just make a bolt for it when they go to the railing."

"You mean to the car?"

"Yeah."

Meg leaned onto her knees. "Then what are we going to do?"

I leaned next to her. "I don't know. We'll figure it out when we get there."

"Do you men even know who you're talking to?" insisted Jack, strutting down the stairs from the helm to the soldiers. They shook their heads after a brief pause.

"I am Jacob Smith! The famous explorer of the West Indies!"

"What about that pilfering business?" questioned the fat one suspiciously.

"I was toying with you, mates. I'm telling the truth now."

I couldn't stop myself from snorting. All three looked in my direction, Jack giving me an especially dirty look.

"Famous explorer, hm? Where exactly have you been then, Mr. Smith?" asked the skinny one, now matching his partner's suspicion.

"Sit down and let me tell you," said Jack, placing himself on a barrel. They did as instructed. "Now, before I came here, my ship met up with a nasty storm, one I doubt the devil himself could ever navigate. But, by pure skill and a bit of luck, I managed to remain the sole survivor and steer myself to an island that I had spotted. It was gorgeous, mates, entirely untouched by human hands. Or so I thought. What I quickly discovered was that it was inhabited by vicious cannibals."

Both soldiers leaned in closer. I, on the other hand, began to think.

Going to the car would prove to be a dead end; there was no question about that. Once we were there, we were stuck with a truck that couldn't go any farther than maybe five feet before running into some type of bush. And that wasn't going to help us get home, especially if we came here through a gigantic bolt of energy. It wasn't like I could magically summon it back and command it to take us back to our world. For all I knew, it could take us to _another_ world, and than _another_. There was very little chance of us getting back to _our_ world. Not to mention that the engine was probably fried from the amount of energy that had hit it…

And that's when an insane, almost entirely impossible idea hit me. But maybe it could work.

"Emc²!" I whispered, tapping Meg on the shoulder repeatedly. "Emc²!"

Meg, who had been listening to Jack's story, looked at me incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"Emc²! That's the answer!"

"The equation for energy is the answer. To what?"

By this time, Jack had stopped talking to watch us with interest, both the soldiers eyeing us warily. I didn't care.

"Energy can't just…disappear into thin air! It has to go somewhere!"

"Yeah," agreed Meg. "I'm still not following you…"

"What if," I explained, becoming more animated with my hands as I spoke, "all the energy wasn't used up when it hit us? What if some of it is still in the car engine?"

"Then…the car has energy? Lyn, you need to express yourself more clearly."

"That energy came from where we were originally. That means it might have ties there still. Now, this is all speculation, but if we were to start the car, and therefore rebooting the energy, it just might take us home!"

Meg stared at me, but a hopeful smile was forming on her lips. "I sure hope your speculation is right."

"What is all this nonsense?" huffed the skinny soldier. "Cars? Emc…something?"

"None of your beeswax," I told him. He frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar slang.

"And, after these two ladies so rudely interrupted my story," continued Jack, looking a little hurt no one was no longer listening to him, "I began dancing around, throwing the seeds into the air, like I had seen the other men do it. Now, I know I looked like a fool, but it was enough to convince them that I was, in fact, a god, come back to them to rescue them from a famine. Now, some of the elders didn't entirely believe this to be the truth, so they had me locked up for the night, saying that if it didn't rain, I would be killed in the morning."

"How did you know what they were saying?" challenged Meg, once again distracted by his story. "You obviously hadn't been to the island before."

Jack glared at her briefly before explaining. "I am familiar with many native peoples and their language. It was roughly the same, and I was able to discern most of what the men were telling me. Now, by some great luck, it _did_ rain that night, a big storm too. Anyway, I was let go, and the whole tribe made a feast in my honor, saying how wonderful I was to have saved them, and then they made me their chief."

A faint splash was heard, and all three heads turned in the direction of who Meg and I knew to be Elizabeth Swann. They stared out to sea for a moment, then Jack turned to them and asked, "Will you be saving her then?"

I grabbed Meg's arm and pulled her toward the plank, treading as lightly as I could on the wooden floor beneath me. We scampered across to the docks, hearing another splash as Jack dove into the water. And that was about the time the soldiers realized we were gone.

"Hey, you, stop!"

Of course, we didn't stop, until we heard shots, and a bullet whizzed past my leg. "They're shooting at us!" Meg cried out, skidding to a halt and looking back in disbelief.

I glanced behind me to see them hurrying after us, not but a hundred meters off. "Go!" I shouted, taking Meg's hand and sprinting away from them. Unfortunately, we still had out backpacks on, and were not able to make very good time. But we might have been able to get away…if it hadn't been for that blasted carriage that ran in front of us, making us stop so suddenly we fell over.

"Talking back to an officer, indecent apparel, and then _running away_ from an officer," grumbled the fat one as he picked me up by the arm. "It's at least a good night or two in jail for both of you."

"I can't believe this!" yelled Meg. "Those aren't even crimes!"

"They are in Port Royal," said the skinny one, hauling her up as well.

"Don't you have more important things to worry about?" I grumbled, pointing toward the floundering Jack and drowned Elizabeth.

Both looked in the direction and shrugged. "Can't do much about the situation. We can't swim," the fat one explained.

"Then why in the world are you in the navy?" asked Meg.

Neither offered a response; instead, they dragged us over to the docks as Jack stumbled over, hauling Elizabeth off his shoulders. They both helped him put her on the ground, while the fat one said, "I got her. Not breathing!"

While this would have been an ideal moment to leave, both Meg and I stood there transfixed; myself partly out of worry that Elizabeth would be okay. This, of course, was a ridiculously stupid worry. I knew exactly what was going to happen. But some human instinct kept me there to make sure that everything was going to be alright.

I am such a retard.

Anyways, back to the story.

"Move!" shouted Jack, shoving both men away. He then proceeded to cut the corset open with such speed that, if it had been an Olympic sport, he would have won the gold medal. Elizabeth subsequently started coughing up water…which happened to land right on my brand new, gorgeous green Nike running shoes.

"Yuck," I said, moving out of the line of fire, realizing all too late how shallow it had made me sound. Elizabeth, who was done coughing by this time, glared up at me for a split second. "Sorry," I muttered, though I doubted she heard me. Next to me, Meg was silently laughing.

"I never would have thought of that," mumbled the skinny soldier.

"Clearly you've never been to Singapore," answered Jack.

I could never understand what exactly Jack had meant by the comment, and was severely tempted to ask him at that moment, but Meg distracted me by a quick jab on the arm.

"Look."

Running toward us was Norrington, white wig and blue coat as pristine as ever, equally spotless soldiers rallying behind him. I was suddenly reminded of Legolas, who, no matter the situation, always came out perfectly clean. The thought nearly made me laugh out loud, but I managed to contain it to an unseemly snort.

I heard Jack mutter to Elizabeth, "Where did you get that?" just as Norrington shoved his way past me and placed a sword on his throat.

"On your feet."

Jack stood up slowly, smiling lazily. When he saw Meg and I, he raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Norrington followed his gaze to us, and frowned when he noticed our lovely clothing that had caused so much upset. "Who are you?" he asked sternly.

"Um…Lyn."

"Meg, sir."

I looked at him, waiting for some kind of reaction; maybe a smile, or a nod of recognition, or even a lecture on how we were not suppose to be running around in 'indecent apparel.'

Instead, he ignored us.

How rude.

"Are you alright?" asked the governor, holding his arms out for Elizabeth.

"Yes I'm fine." She glanced over at Meg and I, her eyes becoming wide when she saw our shorts. I knew I had under-armor in my track bag, and I at this point, I was seriously considering pulling it out and putting it on right then and there. It would have been better than having everyone stare at me like I was an alien from outer space.

The governor also stared at us in shock…until he noticed where Elizabeth's corset lay. The skinny soldier (the one holding it), quickly pointed to Jack. "Shoot him!"

"Father! Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?"

"I believe thanks are in order." Norrington shook Jack's hand, an in the process revealed the brand. This was another moment where I had a strong urge to ask a question; namely, how did Norrington know? "Had a brush with the East India Trading company, did we, pirate?" he finished, glaring at Jack.

I couldn't constrain myself. "How did you know he was a pirate?"

The Commodore turned to face me with a look implying he was disgusted with my interruption. "I had reasonable suspicion."

"But that's not enough to do a search! It has to be probably cause!" I argued automatically. Everyone in my view gaped at me, and Meg gave a warning nudge.

"That's Government," she muttered.

I mentally slapped myself. My teacher had trained me too well.

Maybe I should consider being a lawyer.

After a brief (and embarrassing) pause, Norrington turned to his men. "Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette , fetch some irons."

"Get two more, please," asked the fat one. Gillette frowned in silent question. "It's for those ladies, Lieutenant."

Norrington spun around to face us, both Meg and I backing up to the edge of the dock. "What did they do?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Meg. "We didn't DO ANYTHING! We just…existed! And they seemed to have a problem with that."

"The charges?" asked Norrington wearily.

"Talking back to an officer, being in public in indecent apparel, and then running away from an officer."

The Commodore stared at us. "I hardly think they need irons. They're just girls."

"Can we just go? _Please_?" I asked, wriggling my toes. Elizabeth's upchuck of water had successfully soaked through my shoes, and was grossing me out.

"Commodore, we have bigger problems," interrupted the governor, pointing at Jack repeatedly.

Norrington looked down at the wrist he was still holding, moving the shirt so he could see the tattoo. "Jack Sparrow , isn't it?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow , if you please, sir."

"Commodore," said Gillette, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "One iron or three?"

"Just get some irons, Gillette!" growled Norrington. "And I don't see your ship…Captain."

"I'm in the market as it were."

"He said he'd come to commandeer one," interjected the skinny one.

"Told ya he was telling the truth. These are his, sir," added the fat one, dumping all of Jack's effects into the Commodore's arms.

"No additional shots nor powder…A compass that doesn't point north…" he unsheathed the sword. "And I half expected it to be made of wood. You are, without doubt, the worst pirate I've ever heard of."

"But you have heard of me."

"Mr. Norrington," I said. "Can we _please_ just leave?"

"No," he answered. "You will be arrested for the charges set against you and spend a night in jail." His tone sounded like that of a father who has just returned from a very stressful day at work, and is unwilling to compromise.

I, unfortunately, have exactly that type of father, and his remark ignited my usual response to this attitude: anger. "This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard of!"

"You're talking back to an officer again," piped up the fat one.

"Shut up!" I snapped, then turning back to Norrington, I continued, "What about women's rights? Or rights in general? Even if you don't have a constitution, surely you have _something_ in English law giving people rights."

"Commodore, I really must protest," included Elizabeth. "For all three of them. Pirate or not this man saved my life, and these two girls are hardly criminals! To put them in the jail house for indecent apparel is absurd! We have whores and worse that are still at large in Port Royal! If you are going to arrest these two, you ought to arrest the whole lot of them!"

I felt a large outpouring of kindness toward Elizabeth at this comment, and smiled gratefully at her.

"Those whores don't go running around in less than a chemise, like these two are," explained Norrington carefully. Governor Swann nodded silently in approval.

I quickly determined that this governor had no brains. Odd how most political figures have this problem…

"You know what," said Meg, stepping up toward him. "Why don't you just let us leave, like we have suggested plenty of times, and we won't let you suffer seeing us anymore. Deal?"

"I'm not suffering," offered Jack, smiling.

"You are a pervert," stated Meg. Everyone around us stared blankly at each other at the comment. "Right. No one knows what that word means."

"I do!" I answered. Meg rolled her eyes, but a smile was twitching on her lips.

"Commodore," said Gillette, coming toward us, "the irons."

"Finally! Go on and put him in irons, and Murtogg, if you please…"

"Right away sir." The skinny soldier (now Murtogg) grabbed Meg's hands and clapped them together with the handcuffs.

"I can't believe you're doing this!" she shouted, trying to pull back. Two soldiers held her shoulders, and two more held mine as Murtogg put my wrists in irons.

"Commodore!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "He saved my life!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness, Miss Swann."

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," added Jack.

Norrington looked at him disdainfully. "Indeed. Now, as for you two," he came up toward Meg and I, but was interrupted by a small scream from Elizabeth, who was now in the clutches of Jack.

"I knew you'd warm up to me. Commodore Norrington, my effects, please, and my hat." Norrington paused, watching the pirate carefully. "Commodore!" Two soldiers handed the effects to poor Elizabeth, who was shaking not only from fright, but from the chill she no doubt had. "Elizabeth. It is Elizabeth isn't it?"

"It's Miss Swann."

At this moment, I realized what an exceptional position Meg and I were at. If we could time it just right, we could get away when Jack was making his escape. I nudged her with my foot, and she looked up. "What?"

"Follow my lead."

"For what?"

"Gentlemen, m'lady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"Run!" I exclaimed, grabbing Meg and rushing toward Jack. We couldn't get very far because of our backpacks (which we could no longer remove because of the stupid handcuffs), but it didn't matter. Every single soldier was occupied with trying to retrieve the escaped Sparrow. What were a couple of girls to a dangerous pirate?

And because I had always enjoyed this scene in the movie, I stopped and took a moment to watch Jack swinging around the fort, yelling as bullets whizzed past his head. I felt eyes on me, and when I looked back down, I saw Elizabeth watching Meg and I. She smiled. I smiled back. Too bad I would never really get to meet her.

Meg stood there as well, snorting as Jack went down that rope like a zip line. "That looks really fun."

"Yeah. We could try it, if you wanted to." I held up my wrists teasingly. "Of course, our backpacks might prove a problem…"

"Think we could?"

The soldiers were shooting at Jack now. "It's probably too dangerous. Lets go."

"Always the voice of reason. If you say so…"

I laughed, but stopped when I saw Murtogg and Mullroy (I finally remembered their names!) running toward us. "Good grief! They're worse than stalkers!" I exclaimed.

"Run," was all that Meg said in response.

To cut a long and dreadfully tedious part of the story short: we ran. All over Port Royal. Our track coach would have been bursting with pride if he could see the work-out we had. Definitely harder than a five-four-three-two-one set of sprints. I daresay we might have set the national cross-country record.

Anyways, those two guards _would not_ leave us alone! After a while, it just became flat out creepy. I mean, how desperate can anyone get? We were just a couple of girls! We weren't even criminals!

But, after who knows how long, we were successfully able to shake them, leaving both Meg and I gulping for air and covered in dust from the dirt road. And it was about then that "Another Bites the Dust" started playing in my head, as if to mock my situation.

We leaned against a building, gasping for breath, no doubt both red in the face and soaked with sweat as if we had been in a torrential down pour. And my hair was a wreck. Again.

"I didn't think we could ever escape them," huffed Meg, wiping her face.

"I didn't know they could run so fast," I answered, trying to fix my hair in _some_ way. It was a tangled mess now, even after our lovely swim. Sighing in frustration, I grouped it together and stuck it up in a messy bun.

"That looks amazing," Meg commented, watching with amusement as I fought with my stubborn locks.

"It generally does," I sighed sarcastically. "Ready to go?"

"Ugh, after that work out? I need a drink of water first."

"I have a water bottle in my magic track bag."

The magic track bag is, obviously, not actually magic. It's just a Nike strap bag (you know those small ones with the pully strings that get caught and tied up so it won't shut? That's the one). However, it holds everything I would ever need for a track meet if I were to forget my really big track bag (you know those gigantic monsters that the coaches hand out with the school colors, and expect you to lug around school and the meet, yet are always in your way? That's the one), which is quite likely. It includes: my bright yellow and black striped spikes, two water bottles, snack money, MP3 player, lotion, hair ties, hair brush, deodorant, gum, and five sets rook cards (for amusement. Those bus rides can get really long…).

I reached to get to my magic track bag, which was in my regular backpack, and saw it was virtuously impossible because of the handcuffs. So, after a great deal of shifting and grunting, Meg was able to reach into the magic track bag and get the water.

"This is almost more trouble than it's worth," she grumbled, unscrewing the top and tipping the contents into her mouth.

My own mouth was salivating as I saw the water, and I reached out to take my turn…except, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the stalker soldiers again. "Get back!" I hissed, scooting backward.

"Where?" Meg asked, looking behind us. It was a solid wood building…with a door.

"In there!"

We scrambled up and lunged at the door. Meg opened it…went through…I followed…and ran smack dab into her stopped figure, sending us both hurtling to the ground.

"Why did you stop going?" I said, trying, unsuccessfully, to untangle myself from my backpack, which had somehow managed to wrap itself around my leg. On closer examination, I saw it to actually be Meg's backpack. Not much better.

"Who are you?"

I looked up to see the confused face of William Turner.

Behind him was Jack, who seemed just as confused as his buddy. I smiled in embarrassment. "Long time no see."

Both stared at me blankly. Modern slang just didn't mix with these people.

"Sorry to interrupt," offered Meg after a _long_ moment of silence. "You can keep doing…whatever you were doing."

"Oh! The dueling scene!" I whispered, recognizing where we were. "This is the best one in the entire movie!"

"Do you know them?" asked Will. He was talking to Jack.

Jack looked at us carefully. "No," he finally said.

I got a distinct impression from his voice that he certainly didn't _want_ to know us.

Will looked at us strangely. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Running." The answer what out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong answer. In seconds, Will's sword was pointed at us. "Are you pirates too?"

"What are you, the Pirate Exterminator?" asked Meg, watching the sharp point cautiously. "Do we _look_ like pirates?"

"And you have a prime specimen to compare us to," I added, pointing toward Jack.

I guess my language was too scientific for poor Will, because he stared at us like a deer would at a pair of headlights. "Never mind," I muttered.

I really needed to stop hanging around "The Adams" ("The Molecule").

"Then what are you?" he finally asked again.

Meg and I looked at each other. I was very tempted to say 'aliens', but decided it would go right over his head.

"They, my dear man," began Jack, strutting up behind him, "are girls." Suddenly, he had his pistol under Will's chin, and smiled triumphantly. "Thanks for invigorating fight, mate, but I have a ship to commandeer."

Will was nonplused, and grabbed Jack's arm. "I cannot just let you escape. You're a pirate."

Jack pointed the pistol at Meg. "And have their blood on your hands?"

"Don't even try that," I threatened. "You won't shoot."

Jack glared at me, but I could see the surprise and shock on his face that I would know something like that. Will looked at him, and Jack gritted his teeth, giving me another strong glare. "This shot is not meant for you…or you," he hissed, motioning at Meg.

And then came the sound of glass on human skull, sending Jack falling right on top of poor Meg. A muffled screech was heard as he smothered her, and I grabbed his shirt to help haul him off. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, rubbing her head.

"Excellent work, Mr. Brown . You've assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive." I looked up to see Norrington congratulating the short, and extremely disgusting, Mr. Brown. For a moment, I though of that peasant in Monty Python…the one who is collecting manure…

I shook my head. I really needed a break from all of this.

"Just doing my civic duty, sir."

"Well, I trust you'll always remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped. Take him away." The Commodore glanced at Will, then spotted us. "Ah, Miss Lyn and Miss Meg. What are we going to do with you?"

From the look on his face, I honestly believe that Norrington would have let us go. Unfortunately, it was at this moment that our stalkers decided to make an entrance.

"Oi! There you are!" exclaimed Mullroy, heaving me to my feet. "It's the jailhouse for you two."

I looked at Norrington with pleading eyes. Sighing, he shrugged hopelessly.

Great.


	5. The Jailhouse and What Happened There

AN: A thousand apologies for not updating sooner! School is more than overwhelming at the moment, and I started track recently, which is eating up more of my time. I'm still writing my other story (for those of you who are reading that), so don't worry, it will be updated...eventually. I just need to find time to make it good, which is increasingly harder.

Anyways, I made this pretty long, to make up for time waiting.

Enjoy!

* * *

So we were put in jail.

In the same cell as Jack.

While many girls would probably consider this the best day of their life, I was miserable.

For one, he was unconscious until much later. This left me and Meg alone to mope around the cell without any form of plausible distraction. It would have been so much fun to bug Jack…but he was out cold.

So there we were, moping around. And sneezing. And sniffing. The cold from this morning was coming back, and making both of us miserable. And we had no tissues, because they were utterly disintegrated.

To make things worse, both Meg and I had to deal with those ten other men in the cell next to us. They were what I consider to be the scum of the earth. Now, while this might seem a little harsh, anyone who has to endure listening to such degrading comments and cat calls I guarantee would agree with me. Meg told them to shut their traps a couple of times. Of course they didn't listen.

Never mind what I said about no plausible distraction; these men proved to be that exact distraction, and reminded me why I didn't play basketball.

Now, the vulgar commentary that they began started almost right as the soldiers left (it was about our clothing. Again. I was beginning to despise my shorts). And after about forty minutes of sitting there holding our ears, yelling at them, shouting at them, and attempting to ignore them, Meg and I finally lost it. I was seriously considering yelling for the guards to get their lazy butts down here and do their job when Meg found a large pile of mud clots.

I am not going to even try to figure out how they got there. Because I didn't care. The minute I saw those mud clots, I had a terribly cruel, yet completely deserved, idea.

Taking one in my hand, I held it up for my friend to see. "Think I can make this through the bars?"

Meg raised an eyebrow, not quite catching my meaning. "Um…I don't know…"

Smiling, I hurled it toward the ten men, just as one was whistling at us. Though it didn't actually go through the bars (my aim sucks, at least when I throw things), it _did_ explode and startle them enough to shut them up for about three seconds.

Meg smiled evilly and took another clot. "I bet _I_ can make it through the bars."

So this is what we did for another hour. Now, instead of hearing rude and uncouth (and ultimately disgusting) innuendoes about our shorts and legs, we were hearing swear words I never knew existed. But it _was_ worth it to see the look on their faces when the clots did make it through the bars…and hit them smack dab on the head.

I think it was the swearing that woke Jack up. After muttering a few times (something about Barbossa. Poor, obsessive man…), he opened his eyes and sat up. Meg and I stopped throwing the mud clots to look at him curiously. To say the least, he looked trashed.

He stared as us vacantly; we stared back, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing did.

I hate awkward silences, and that was exactly what was happening. Holding up my water bottle, I asked, "Do you want some water?"

Jack frowned and stared at the bottle like it was a disease. _Finally_, he said something. "What are you doing here?"

"We were arrested. Or did you miss that part of the conversation on the docks?" answered Meg.

He didn't bother responding to her question, instead asking one of his own. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lyn, and this is Meg. We said our--"

"I don't mean your names, I mean who are_ you_? There is not a single women I know that would expose that much of their legs, no matter the situation. Not even the…ah…ladies of the night that I know. And you certainly don't appear to be…a…"

"Whore," I offered.

He paused, then nodded, giving me an odd look. "You aren't…normal."

"Nobody is normal," said Meg in a somewhat creepy monotone voice, while throwing another mud clot at the ten men for good measure. "I learned that at school."

"What classes are you taking?" I joked, joining in to throw more mud clots. "Life skills?"

"You two go to school?" asked Jack, coming up beside us and grabbing his own mud clot to throw.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Unfortunately."

"I would have liked a governess," said one of the men from the other cell. "But my ma wouldn't let us have one. Said papa would run off with the first one once he got a chance."

Both Meg and I frowned. "No wonder you're a criminal, your home life sucked!" said Meg.

"Sucked?" asked Jack, looking at us again. "Where are you getting this vocabulary? First pervert, now sucked. It's like you're speaking rubbish. Not English. Is that what you are, not English?"

"Yes, actually. We're American," answered Meg.

"Not according to some," I muttered under my breath.

"What?"

"You ever been to the east coast?" I asked, now ignoring the rest of the people around me. "Half the people there think we're from Mexico. Asking whether we had to get passports to come visit. Mexicans, that's what they think we are."

Meg stared at me and, out of the blue, started laughing. Hard.

It must be noted that our mental capacity at this time was on an overload. We had been transported to another universe (if my speculation was correct), arrested for 'indecent apparel,' physically exhausted ourselves by running around Port Royal, caught a cold, had no breakfast _or_ lunch, and were now stuck in a jailhouse with ten lunatic men and one who I am pretty sure _is_ crazy.

For anyone to have erupted in laughter at that moment is actually a very sane and sensible thing to do, if one looks at it in the right light.

However, none of our 'friends' (I use the term loosely) could not see that light, considering they had no idea what had just happened to us.

So they stared. And I heard worried whispers from the other cell.

I sat back, starting to laugh myself, first a slow chuckle, and eventually to the point where I was clutching my stomach because it hurt so badly and rolling around on the floor with Meg. Tears were streaming down both faces, and the constant gasps for air was heard repeatedly as we laid there.

We recovered almost as abruptly as we had started, watching the ceiling with intense interest. "That wasn't even really funny," sighed Meg.

"It felt good though," I answered, yawning as I sat up, only to see eleven pairs of eyes goggling at both of us.

It was a little unnerving.

Now, believe it or not, I can become very embarrassed very quickly with little effort.

This was one of those moments.

As I felt the blush crawl up my neck, I inched my way toward the corner and brought my knees to my chin, not looking at anyone directly. Meg scooted next to me, her butt rubbing against the stone floor, eerily loud against the backdrop of shocked silence. It remained like this for another thirty seconds before she grumbled, "Don't you all have something better to stare at?"

There was no answer, until a horrid, disgusting, shell of a man said, "Only if yeh strip off yeh clothes."

Two large mud clots went sailing into the other cell, both hitting him right on the face.

The remaining time in the jail house was spent throwing more mud clots.

After that vulgar and completely immature comment was thrown out by that equally vulgar and immature man, his fellow cellmates seem to have regained some type of bravery and continued with their previous job: bugging us.

So, we of course had to fight back.

Unfortunately, Jack was no help in the matter. I'm not sure if he was sulking or asleep, but he just sat in the opposite corner, with his hat over his face. Every once in awhile, the rim would come up, and I could see his black eyes watching us with a mixture of wariness and amusement, but then it would go right back down again.

Eventually we ran out of mud clots.

And, thankfully, the men became bored with us, instead harassing the doggy.

And…nothing happened.

I'd imagine that everyone in this world as been to a doctor's office. Well, that's exactly what it felt like; nobody was talking, except to the people that they really knew, and most kept their eyes lowered, determined to not look at anyone else. Awkward in every way, shape, and form.

But this silence did give me time to think about my truck. I know it might seem weird…and ultimately addictive, but I was getting very antsy that I didn't have my truck with me. Just the knowledge that I couldn't _have_ it was making my insides feel twisted and disoriented. It seemed like I was missing a vital part of my body, like a lung, or a leg.

It was weird.

To try and stop the constant cringing I was going through, I pulled out a piece of paper and pencil, determined to draw a map to my truck. No one else was paying attention (doggy harassment and napping time), so I had about thirty seconds of pure aloneness before Meg glanced over at my scribbles.

"What are you doing?"

I sighed and finished a street that I remembered, one going out of Port Royal. "A feeble attempt at a map. You mentioned earlier we didn't know where the car was, so I'm trying to remember."

Meg nodded. "How is it going?"

We looked at the lines, supposedly representing streets, that led to a tangle of circles and smudges, that represented the forest. I had made an 'X' for the truck, and a somewhat straight line coming from that to Port Royal. "Well…it could go worse. I remember that the sun was shining on my face, which means we were facing west. We went directly forward from the car, since the coast was on our left, meaning Port Royal is west of my truck. We just need to go in a general eastern direction, and I'm guessing we will find my truck. But it's just estimation."

Meg shrugged. "Sounds good. How many trucks are here to choose from?"

I rolled my eyes, but chuckled anyway. "Only if it hasn't turned green already from all the trees."

"Yeah, well I think I'd rather turn green than _this_," she held up her arm to my face, showing the brown mud, hay straws, and another not quite identifiable thing stuck to her arm.

I grimaced and glanced at my own body, which was covered with the same materials. Eww. Then I gingerly brought my hand up to feel my hair. It was musty feeling, and definitely not the perfectly straight, chocolate brown style it is usually in.

Absolutely vile.

Looking over at Jack for a moment, I took the liberty of studying his hair. I decided things could be worse.

I could have dreadlocks.

Apparently, I was staring for too long, because Jack raised his hat to look at me quizzically. "See something you like, lass?"

I blushed furiously and glared at him. "Not quite."

He grinned, then glanced at the other ten men, all of whom were now fervently urging the doggy to come to them. "You can keep doing that forever, the dog is _never_ going to move."

"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet," grumbled the man with the bone, who stuck it out farther, waving it around like a flag.

I snorted, and folded up the map, sticking it in my backpack. Meg stretched out next to me, and we both watched for awhile as the men continued their fruitless attempts.

And during this time, both our stomachs rumbled furiously. As I said, we had had no breakfast or lunch, not to mention dinner from the night before. And all this before we ran around, trying to evade capture, with no success. After a particularly loud growl from my stomach, I groaned, "Do they ever feed us here? Or do they see how many they can starve to death before they commence with the hangings?"

"I could eat a horse right now," said Meg, holding her own stomach tightly.

"I'd be willing to eat just about anything at this point," I added.

"What about human flesh?"

I looked up at Jack again, who had stated the comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw three of the other men watch him in fascination. "What about it?"

"You said you'd be willing to eat anything."

I looked at Meg and grimaced. "Well, that would depend on whether this human was already dead, and whether I was going to die if I didn't eat. And if it was someone I knew. And if it was a child." Jack stared at me silently, a teasing smirk on his face. "Have you eaten it?" I challenged.

"Almost. When I was made chief of that island…though you weren't listening, were you?"

"I got to hear the part where you danced around like a ballerina and threw…what was it? Rice? Yeah, rice into the air. Like at weddings."

I wondered for a brief second if ballerinas existed at this time (where's my brother when I need him?), but after a dark glare from Jack, I determined that they did.

"You found cannibals?" asked one of the other men.

"Yes, in fact, it started with a storm…"

Almost immediately, I dozed off, not wanting to hear any part of that story again. And I was tired. And excessively hungry. Could anyone blame me?

My nap was rudely interrupted by a very loud bang, followed by someone grabbing me by my shirt and yanking me away, followed by another loud bang, and the sound of rubble falling to the ground.

"What the--?" I mumbled, trying to find any sense of direction. My eyes were blurry and dry (contacts. And gosh darnit, I didn't have any special contact rinse to fix that!), and after swatting my hands a few places, I came into contact with something squishy, which caused a hurt grunt. "Sorry."

"Sit up, lass, you're on my ankle," grumbled Jack, who shoved me to the side.

"Sorry," I muttered again, rubbing my eyes, resolute in clearing my vision. "Meg, where are you?"

"Here. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I blinked a few times, finally able to see things somewhat clearly in the dim light of night. "What happened?"

"A cannon came through, and Jack pulled you out of the way."

"Oh, that part," I yawned. Looking over, I saw all ten men cowering in the corner. "You're free, you know."

One looked up in glee, and soon all were crawling out of the hole. Jack stood up, and stuck his head through the tiny gap of our cell. The last man looked at him, a empathetic look on his face. "My sympathies friend, you've no manner of luck at all."

It was deathly silent as we sat there, Jack still standing like a statue.

Now, I am an older sister, who has many younger siblings. This…position has given me certain qualities, or characteristics. The strongest of which were: take care of those who need help, and comfort those who look sad. Both were showing their faces now, and without thinking (trust me, these things are automatic), I burst out, "Don't be so sad, Jack. Everything is going to be fine."

As I look back on all the incidents that this has been stated, I cannot help being amused. The truth is, most of the time it wasn't 'fine.' And I say it as if _I_ can do something about it. Well…actually, most of the time I can. Another odd character trait I have developed from being the oldest; I think I control everything I want to control.

In fact, that's almost true, in most cases…

Enough of my rambling.

Again.

Despite the fact that I had these…interesting traits, Jack was hardly assured, and instead turned to give me a look half way between greatly amused and extremely angry. "Lass, we are in a jail. Things do not just 'go fine' in a jailhouse."

I frowned. Well, this side of Jack wasn't shown in the movie…the gloomy, depressed side…

And Meg, being the straightforward one, exclaimed, "Well, don't sit here and sulk! You aren't honestly going to quit now, are you?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Do you know to whom you are addressing?"

I was greatly tempted to say, 'a lunatic,' but bit my tongue.

Meg rolled her eyes. "The infamous _Captain Jack Sparrow_…"

He smiled. "You remembered my title. Excellent job, lass. Now, Captain Jack Sparrow does not just sit and sulk, no matter how bad the situation. Instead…I sit…and wait." Just as he said, Jack sat.

I frowned, extremely unimpressed with this terribly anti-climatic statement. "Wait? A famous pirate waits?"

"For inspiration, luv."

"Inspiration? Good grief! You have a dog with keys sitting not five feet away. How much inspiration do you _need_?"

Jack gave me a quick glare. "I am waiting for something _else_."

Hmm…I can't quite remember the movie showing the arrogant, prideful side of Jack either. The movie missed quite a few things.

Or I am just a bozo who missed those things.

Either way, whether movie or I missed it, I was rather annoyed by this attitude; especially since we sat there for almost twenty minutes as he waited for inspiration to tap him on the shoulder and introduce itself.

Meg, after a dramatic sigh, said, "I have your inspiration; Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Jack glanced at her suspiciously. "What does that have to do with this?"

"You are repeating history, because you didn't learn it from the example of your forefathers."

Jack blinked blankly.

"There have been many pirates in history, many of which are caught and hung. You are a pirate, and you are caught, and you are going to be hung. Moral of the story: don't be a pirate, or you will die."

"Hardly inspiration," he sniffed, reaching through the bars to grab something.

"In other words," I said, "don't be stupid enough to put yourself into these situations. That way, you don't have to wait your way out of them. Like an Aesop fable."

"Except, it's not really a fable," mused Meg. We looked at each other, and laughed.

Then we heard whistling, and quickly realized it was Jack, trying to call the dog over. The first word that came to my mind was 'hypocrite,' but I decided not to say anything. The poor guy honestly thought he would die if he didn't escape. Of course, I knew that he would be perfectly okay, but _he_ didn't know that. Absolutely frustrating beyond words. It was like seeing into the future, but not able to tell the person what you know, because they really aren't suppose to know.

I wonder if fortune tellers ever had this dilemma. Back when fortune tellers actually thought they were seeing the future instead of drug-dreams or something…

Wow, way off topic.

Back to the story.

Anyways, Jack was crouched over, swinging that disgusting, grimy bone back and forth like it was a surprise birthday present. Well, that dog is no dumby (why else would anyone give him the keys?), so of course he didn't even think about getting the bone.

Not to mention it was a half crazed, dread-locked man who was waving it aimlessly in front of him.

No, that dog was very smart.

I looked over at Meg, who had the face of…someone who was about to fall asleep in class; trying to look interested, yet failing miserably. I didn't blame her. Who knew how long this was going to last. The movie only showed a very small portion of it.

To my dismay, this doggy calling went on for another ten minutes. Meg seemed to be feeling part of my emotion, because, after sighing very dramatically (she is very good at that), she said, "You're doing it _wrong_."

Frankly, I am amazed that Jack managed to ignore us for the length of time he did. From the movies, most would get the impression that he could never forget a women if she were in his presence. However, I suppose to him, we were still a couple of girls (especially if he's like…what…forty something?), and, therefore, deserved none of his attention at all.

This thought was plainly written across his face as he turned to face us, exasperated, yet obviously wishing us to disappear.

At that point, I wished that I could disappear too…somewhere with a bath…hot bath…a bed…_FOOD_…

"Pray, lass, how _do_ I do it correctly?"

Meg scrambled over and snatched the bone out of his hand. "First off, you don't use _this_. It's disgusting."

"It's a bone. Dogs like bones," he argued, trying to take it back.

"Not when they're covered in who knows what. And you don't snap at it. You call to the dog _softly_."

"I wasn't snapping, I was whistling. And calling it like a dog ought to be called," grumbled Jack, still reaching for the bone which Meg was hiding behind her. "It isn't a little baby that you're cooing at; it's a dog. A stupid mutt. And give me my bone back!"

Meg tossed the bone through the bars into the other cell (too bad we didn't have that when the men were here), barely avoiding Jack's grab for her hair. "Let me do it!"

Glaring mutinously, Jack leaned back. "Very well. You better know what you're doing, or you'll be sorry."

"What are you going to do, stab me with the straw?" mumbled Meg.

Unfortunately, Jack heard, and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "My life is on the line, luv. I wouldn't mess this up if I were you."

Meg rolled her eyes and faced the dog, both hands through the bars. "Here, sweet doggy," she whispered daintily, smiling as she did. "Come here, you poor thing, let me pet you. Oooo….what a good doggy…"

"I can't believe this," Jack grumbled. "She's taking the pride from this dog, utterly humiliating it."

"That dog has probably never had a kind word given to it," I said, watching Meg. "I think she's doing it a favor."

He snorted, but still looked at me curiously. "I have never met anyone quite like you two. And I have met a lot of strange people."

"Are you saying we're strange?" I teased, though my face was completely straight as I did. You must understand my sense of humor is very dry…almost British. Have you seen any of their comedy shows? Almost expressionless when they give the punch line…and it's hilarious! Anyways…I have a habit of doing that…and people often don't realize when I'm joking.

Jack reacted just like that. "Oh…um…not quite strange…different." He smiled charmingly. "But in a good way, luv."

I rolled my eyes, losing interest in the conversation quickly. Jack, on the other hand, seemed intend on continuing it. "You said you were…Americans? Does that mean you're from the colonies? I've only been there a few times, you know."

Thankfully, I was spared the extremely awkward explanation that _I_ had not been to the colonies in my life time. I had been to D.C…which did not exist at the moment. Meg had successfully gotten the dog to come over, and was petting it rapidly.

"What a good doggy…what a sweet doggy…"

Jack looked down in disgust. "It's humiliated. I can see that from here. But no matter, as long as we get the keys…" he reached through to try and pull them from the dog's mouth, but he growl, and he brought his hand back. "Dumb mutt. Doesn't know what's best for him."

I was watching the scene with a slight frown. This wasn't suppose to be what happened. Jack was never suppose to have the keys. Pirates were suppose to scare the dog away, which meant that Will could come and get him…

"Let me try," snapped Meg, scratching the animal behind the ears. "Here, doggy, let me have the keys…" She took the ring, and after a few gentle pulls and lots of cooing, the dog released them. "There, see?"

Jack grinned like a little kid at Christmas. "Excellent, luv. Let me have them."

"Don't let him touch those!" I exclaimed, crawling over to get between the two.

"Are you man, women?" he fumed, scrambling to get around me to Meg. "That's my ticket out. Now, get out of my way."

"He can't have them!" I shouted again, bracing myself as I body slammed against him, sending us both hurtling backwards. "Meg, just toss them away!"

Jack grabbed my hair and pulled me off of him.

That was inexcusable.

"Don't touch my hair!" I shrieked, shoving him back down. Jack stared at me, a mix between caution and anger. I brought my hand up make sure it was okay, and then glared at him. "_Never_ do that to my hair again. Understand?"

He frowned, raising an eyebrow, but lunged past me when the clang of keys against wood was heard, signaling that Meg had indeed done as suggested. Grabbing her viciously by the shoulders, he roared, "Are you crazy? I'm going to be hung now! _Hung_!"

"Get off of her and calm down," I ordered, forcing him away.

"_You_! You're the one who gave her the idea!" he seethed, snatching my wrist and pulling me toward him. "You--"

The sound of a quick struggle was heard, and two pirates, those really nasty, yucky ones, came down, watching the scene warily.

"This ain't the armory."

Both swiveled their heads till they rested on Jack.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here Twigg – Captain Jack Sparrow. And a couple of strumpets." The man stared at our shorts, sniggering slightly. "Just how you like it, I see. Right, Sparrow?"

I absolutely loath shorts as of now. I am never wearing them again. My coach can't make me. Ever.

"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much," cackled the short one with that ugly hat. Hideous man.

"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," answered Jack, staring heatedly at both. The other man snarled, then grabbed Jack by the throat, revealing his skeletal arm. "So there is a curse. That's interesting."

Despite the fact I knew exactly what was going on, I jumped at the sight of white bone and decaying skin. For some reason, the movie just doesn't make it seem real. This, on the other hand, was very real, and it was disgusting. I think it even smelled like rotting flesh.

"You know nothing of Hell," he growled, shoving Jack back down.

After spitting on him, they left, leaving Jack to mumble, "That's very interesting."

It was dead silent for about twenty seconds, then Jack hunched over, shaking slightly.

Meg looked at me worriedly, mouthing, _Is he crying?_

I shrugged, and after a pause, slid over and rested my hand on his back. "Are you okay, Jack?"

He stopped shaking, and I heard a muffled, "Leave me _alone_."

"Okay," I said, returning to Meg.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Wait, I suppose." I looked down at Jack, who looked so vulnerable, crouching down, his fists clenched. This wasn't the pirate they had portrayed. But, at the same time, it felt right, made him more…human. Not just a character.

The movie sure left a lot of stuff out.

My stomach growled, making the rest of my body vibrate.

I groaned, clutching it miserably.

I really needed something to eat.


	6. Our Fabulous and Unwilling Escape

AN: A thousand apologizes, once again, for not updating sooner. I would not blame you if you have already forgotten the plot of the story, so I will remind you: me and my best friend are trapped in POTC. And yes, I mean trapped.

I have been asked if this is a romance.

No.

While I can create characters that might fall in love with Jack or Will, **_I_** cannot fall in love with either of them. This is strictly a humor story created for my own amusement. If you were looking for another hopless romantic, tough luck.

I have also been asked what the title of my other story is called, which is _All For You_. Unfortunately, that hasn't been updated for awhile, and won't be until Spring Break at the least.

But despite all, I want to thank all of you that are still reading my stories!

And please, enjoy!

* * *

Sleep, much to my surprise, did not evade me that night. I slept like a baby. A baby that had been given a sleeping pill.

"Get up, Lyn! It's like trying to wake the dead with you!" grumbled Meg. My hazy mind took about thirty seconds to process the words, and then it took my weak and sore body to twist to the side, showing my friend that I was indeed awake.

"What?" I croaked, eyes still closed. The strong rank of something disgusting and rotting met my nose, and I groaned in pain. But it wasn't enough to make me move. Very few things can actually tear me away from sleep. Like my alarm clock, that goes off in incessant beeps, or my baby sister, who will come in on Saturday mornings and hit me with a book repeatedly until I get out of bed.

"I've been sitting here for an hour, awake. And they've sent breakfast, finally. Not to mention," she came down close to my ear, "I can't stand being alone with Jack any more. He's sulking again, just ignoring us. I hate it."

She had me up at the mention of breakfast. "What did they give us?"

Meg gave me something that had the consistency of a rock, yet looked an awful lot like a biscuit. "Is this…?"

"Hard tack," mumbled Jack, who was laying down front and center on the floor. "Dip it in the coffee to soften it. You'll break teeth otherwise."

Suddenly, I didn't feel so hungry. I tossed the brick a few times in my hands before laying it on the ground. "You could build a house with this. Did they give us water?"

Meg shook her head. "Just coffee."

I stuck my tongue out with distaste. "I need water, not a caffeine high." At that point, I remembered my water bottle, which was in my backpack, and pulled it out. Halleluiah, it was still half full! Opening it, I took three long drafts before offering it to Meg, who practically inhaled it as well. "Do you want some, Jack?"

He turned his head to glance at it. "Not rum?"

I snorted. "It's water; the liquid that keeps us alive. Surely you've drunken it at one point in your life."

"Most water I've tasted is contaminated. I don't risk it."

I nudged him gently. "I can promise this water isn't. Probably tastes better than anything you've had before. You aren't chicken, are you?"

I've found that challenging a man with his ego is generally a very good motivator for many aspects in their lives. And, just as predicted, Jack sat up and snatched the bottle, letting himself have a long swig before swishing it around in his mouth a few times. "This is…different. Where did you get this?"

"My home," I answered.

"From a well? Sweetwater? Do they have those in America?"

I took the bottle back and screwed the lid back on. "They have them just about everywhere, I'd imagine." I neglected to mention that I did not, in fact, own any type of well. I had never seen a real well. The closest I had come was that one in Toon Town at Disneyland. The one that is only three feet deep. And it doesn't even have water in it.

"America isn't another planet, you know," added Meg. "It's still on earth, believe it or not."

"Ripley's," I muttered under my breath, laughing to myself.

I really did need to eat.

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "And what do planets have to do with this?"

Meg sighed and leaned back. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand…"

"We have time," he said, sitting straight now. "I'm ready for an interesting conversation before my…deportation from this earth."

"What, now you're talking to me?" grumbled Meg.

"You were sulking," he defended, glaring rather viciously in her direction. "A miserable person is no fun to talk to when one is about to die."

"And you would know this from experience?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jack opened his mouth, froze, tilted his head slightly, then frowned. "Yes, actually. I nearly died about three different times but--"

If loud footsteps hadn't been heard at that instance, I'm sure Jack would have gone into a long and complicated homily of his life experiences. Thankfully, he didn't, but looked in the direction of the footsteps; who just happened to be Will Turner.

I smiled broadly and looked over at Meg, mouthing, "We can leave now."

Meg frown, squinting in confusion.

I mouthed it again.

Meg's frown deepened, and she mouthed back, _What?_

I rolled my eyes, hissing back, "We can _leave_ now."

Meg smiled, and, sensing eyes on us, we both looked up to see Will blinking blankly. Cute guy, but completely clueless.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked. Obviously, he was not talking to Jack, but the pirate felt the need to answer anyways.

"I'm not really sure, mate. I wasn't even pillaging or plundering when I was so unfairly arrested," Sparrow sighed, picking up a piece of straw to study it. Will narrowed his eyes distastefully.

"We were wrongfully accused," answered Meg, who had come up to the bars to talk, "and it would be great if you could just get us out right now."

"I would, but it would involve letting this pirate free. And I have something I need to discuss with him," said Will, and I was surprised to see a look of regret in his eyes. (Or maybe not…he's pretty much a nice, trustworthy guy in the movies…it would make sense for him to feel sorry for us, two innocent girls trapped with a drunkard…)

Anyway.

And so commenced the conversation that has baffled me countless times. Before, it was because I am not familiar with oceanic terminology. Now, it is because the fact that it is absolutely fascinating to listen to. Don't ask me why.

Will turned to Jack. "You are familiar with that ship, the Black Pearl?"

"I've heard of it."

"Where does it make berth?"

_Berth? Who uses that word? Why doesn't he just say "Where does it land?"_

"Where does it make berth? Have you not heard the stories? Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants sailed from the dreaded Isla de Muerta . It's an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is."

_Ooo…miscreants. That's a big word. I wonder if either of them know what Muerto means…_

"The ship's real enough. Therefore its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?"

_Hey! Will used inductive reasoning! Or maybe it's deductive…or just a syllogism…_

"Why ask me?"

"Because you're a pirate."

"And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?"

"Never!" Will swallowed and looked away. "They took Miss Swann."

"Oh, so it is that you've found a girl. I see. Well, if you're intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue and so win fair lady's heart you'll have to do it alone, mate. I see no profit in it for me."

_Moron._

"I can get you out of here. All of you," he corrected nodding toward us.

Jack looked over at Meg and I, who were sitting silently, watching together. He frowned at us, and I frowned back. Something was going on in his head, and from the look in his eyes, it wasn't going to be toward our advantage. "How's that? The key's run off."

"I helped build these cells. These are half pin-barrel hinges. With the right leverage and a proper application of strength, the door will lift free."

"What's a pin-barrel hinge?" I asked automatically. Will cocked an eyebrow.

Jack glared at me openly. "That, lass, does not concern us at the moment. Now be a good girl and sit _silently_ while we discuss these…matters."

"Prig," I muttered under my breath, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meg turning red in anger. I wondered what type of chance Jack held against two furious girls attacking him. We were both in good shape, and fairly strong. My younger brother was about my size and stronger than me…and I could hold my own against him…and Meg was quite capable of punching someone in the face when provoked…

No. Bad idea. Just bad.

"What's your name?"

"Will Turner," answered Will.

"That will be short for William , I imagine. Good, strong name. No doubt, named for your father, aye?"

"That's a stretch," interrupted Meg, throwing a small mud clot against the wall angrily. "Maybe his parents just _liked_ the name William."

"What part of _silently_ did you not understand?" growled Jack.

"You can't tell me what to do! You're just some stupid…pirate!"

"Yes, that's right, lass. And I'm not beyond gutting you if goaded enough," he threatened.

Maybe we _should_ jump him. If I went for his legs, Meg could probably get his arms…

Will was looking rather uneasy, watching both of us worriedly. "Yes, it's after my father," he mumbled.

"Aha. Well, Mr. Turner, I've changed me mind.," answered Jack, who had completely forgotten us. "If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I shall take you to the Black Pearl and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?"

"Agreed."

"Yes!" we exclaimed, jumping to our feet.

Will (who I think was smiling just a little bit at our reaction), did that thing with the bench, and the door went clanging to the ground. "Hurry, someone will have heard that."

Jack stepped out, mumbled something about his effects, and we followed, almost skipping from the cell. "Thanks a lot," I said cheerfully to Will. "And good luck with your rescue and--" I stopped at the point of a sword. Jack's sword.

"Sorry, lass," he murmured dangerously. "I can't have you leaving."

Meg stepped up beside me, her eyes narrowed. "Stop that and let us through. You have no right to threaten us."

"Why in the world do you care where we go?" I asked, using my usual reasoning abilities. It was a skill that, when I felt like using it, I was extremely good at. Combined with my stubborn character, this technique generally got me my way in any situation.

"Three reasons," Jack began, moving the point toward Meg, who was almost growling now. "One. You are suppose to be in prison. If the guards see you running around, they'll know I'm running around, and will therefore search for me. Two, I hardly trust either of you. It is clear enough neither of you think very highly of pirates, and how would I know that you both won't go running to Norrington and tip him off? Three, I am going to be commandeering a ship. The more hands the better."

"Wait, you're going to kidnap us?" I asked, my own temper rising slightly. Jack nodded. "That has got to be the most brainless, dim-witted idea I've ever heard of."

"Care to explain why?" said Jack, pointing the tip back at me.

"We need to leave now," reminded Will, trying to drag Jack with him. "We don't have much time."

"Then let me make this as quick as possible," I began. "One: we can't sail. Two: we can run fast. Three: I could care less what happens to you or Will. Good luck. Goodbye." Swinging my backpack off of my shoulders (I had put it on when leaving the cell. Habit.), I knocked the sword out of my way, hitting Jack in the process, and began running toward the door.

AH!!

I spun around to see Jack almost strangling Meg, a small dagger digging into her throat. "Let go of her," I ordered, holding out my backpack menacingly.

Jack watched it warily, trying to decide whether or not it was truly a threat. "Listen, luv. You are both coming with us, like it or not."

"Let's ask Will whether he wants to clumsy girls trying to rescue Elizabeth," I countered.

Will opened his mouth, but Jack answered. "Dear William had no choice in the matter. I'm the one constructing the operation, and as of now, you are both part of the operation. And I'm not about to risk my own neck for the sake of your freedom."

"No," I growled.

Jack dug the dagger deeper into Meg's throat, and she gasped in pain.

I tensed and remained quiet. Our eyes locked, mine burning holes into his head.

He wouldn't. Jack wasn't the bloodthirsty pirate. That as Barbossa.

As if he could read my thoughts, the dagger went even farther, and I could see a few drops of blood that quickly turned into a light stream.

"Fine," I choked coming forward to remove the dagger, and Jack released it, but not Meg.

"Listen, luv," Jack said. "You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do. _Exactly_."

I guess my unique reasoning abilities don't get me out of all situations.

Grumbling mutinously, I lumbered down the beach, kicking stray seashells toward the ocean and adjusting my backpack periodically. Not but a hundred meters away were the docks, where both the _Dauntless_ and the _Interceptor_ floated.

Getting under the bridge, which was were the other three were hiding, had not been a problem. Will had led us through the alleyways, and we arrived unseen. However, it was shortly after arriving that Jack laid out his ingenious plan to me, one that I'm sure he created to embarrass me as much as possible.

It was, in theory, extremely simple. I would wait until the _Dauntless_ was casting off, then run over to the _Interceptor_ and yell at the top of my lungs that I had seen the pirates get onto the _Dauntless_ and that it looked like they were casting off with it. Any stray soldiers that didn't quickly swing over from the _Interceptor_ to save the sister ship from its imaginary threat I was to dispose of in some manner.

That's where the hard part came in.

Oh, not to mention I had to get the soldiers to notice and believe me went I shouted that the Dauntless was being taken by pirates. Jack had so kindly pointed out that: "Those soldiers are men, and any real man is going to notice a women walking around in her underwear."

After a hard slap to his face, I promptly reminded him that this was not my _underwear_ but my track outfit that was perfectly modest and not at all suggestive. Unfortunately, this only produce a slew of questions from both Jack and Will regarding "track." To say the least, I rushed out of there in a hurry, leaving Meg to deal with the curious men, and the pointy end of Jack's dagger.

I had, for a small increment of time, considered going to my truck, pushing it somehow to Port Royal, then rescuing Meg and skidalling out of here. However, because I am a reasonable person (in most situations), I quickly determined that I would never even be able to budge the car, even on flat asphalt ground. Then I thought about trying to just rescue Meg period, and dwelt on this idea a little bit longer. The chances of Will trying to prevent me from such a venture were unlikely since he was still desperately love-sick with Elizabeth, and was dead set on retrieving her. However, the memory of Jack pushing that dagger into Meg's throat was disgustingly fresh in my memory, and I decided not to push him. He was, after all, a pirate.

I was at the docks now, gripping my backpack nervously, and running through my speech in my head. Pirates…_Dauntless_…go save them…hurry up…etc…

I could do it.

So, with an extremely fake air of confidence, I strutted onto the vessel, trying very hard not to blush like a tomato as the soldiers stared at me.

I REALLY wished I was wearing my under-armor.

I was at the middle of the ship now, and it occurred to me that if I had just seen pirates on the _Dauntless_ (which had left by now), I should have been running onto this ship, screaming at the top of my lungs in fear.

It also occurred to me how stupid it would be to just act like nothing was happening, because then no one would believe me when I said pirates were attacking.

With both these thoughts running through my head, what came from my mouth was something of a strangled gag that was annoyingly high-pitched.

"Pirates on the _Dauntless_!"

All actions that had not been previously stopped at my arrival ceased instantly.

"_Pirates_!" I shrieked again, pointing repeatedly at the ship.

Norrington came up to me. "Aren't you suppose to be in jail?"

"Yes. But…Sparrow! He's taken that ship!"

This seemed to have hit a chord with the Commodore, and he became very alert. "Men, toward the _Dauntless_. Set sail now."

A man came toward us. "Sir, you actually believe _her_?"

I frowned. "Her" had not been said in a very polite manner.

Another man came forward, holding out a spyglass and pointing toward the railing. "Commodore!"

Norrington went forward, and I followed, only to see that guy stranded in a boat, waving his arms like a rag doll. Above the curious murmurs, I could hear him screeching, "Sir, they've taken the Dauntless! They've taken the ship. Sparrow and Turner, they've taken the Dauntless!"

Wait a minute, that wasn't part of the original plan. I came over hear for no good reason! Stupid pirate…

"Rash, Turner, too rash. He is without doubt the worst pirate I have ever seen," grumbled Norrington.

Within moments, we were next to the _Dauntless_, and soldiers were bailing over, leaving me alone on the deck. And moments later, I saw Jack swinging over, then Will, then Meg, who looked like she was holding on for dear life as she converged with the wooden floor in a nasty sounding _thunk_.

"The ropes!" hissed Sparrow, thumping me on the shoulder, and taking me out of my stupor. "Release the ropes!" He handed me a hand-ax and pointed at Will, who was methodically chopping away at them.

So I went to the railing and did exactly what Will was doing…but instead of hitting the rope, I hit the thing attached the rope, and successfully wedging the ax in it. After a small grunt, I was able to remove it, and glanced back at Jack, who was giving me the "stupid" look again.

Great. Now I've proven that I'm incompetent.

Glaring at the railing, I aim the ax again and cut the rope off cleanly. "Aha!" I cheered, and moved to the next one, cutting it precisely as well. I turned again to Sparrow, beaming at my new ability, but he wasn't even looking at me.

Freak.

"Sailors, back to the Interceptor! Now!"

I looked up to see Norrington pointing at us, and a man went swinging like Tarzan, only to fall into the murky water below. Poor guy.

"Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way. We'd have a hard time of it by ourselves," exclaimed Jack cockily, waving his hat this way and that.

BANG!

I fell to the deck and covered my head frightfully. They were shooting at me! A girl! Didn't those men have any values? Any respect?

On the other hand, they were shooting at pirates as well…

It wasn't long until the shooting stopped and Jack, who was hunched over as well, stood up triumphantly and smiled grandly, watching the remaining three of us with small amounts of distaste. "Get up, yeh dogs, and start working. I don't want ol' Norry chasing after us, even with the main rudder disabled."

"Did you miss the part where _we can't sail_?" answered Meg indignantly. I nodded hurriedly in agreement while looking at her. She was soaked to the bone, her light brown hair a tangled mess of salt water, sand, and…seaweed? I picked it off of her hair gingerly and studied it. Yes, seaweed.

"Eww." I threw it over board and turned back to Jack. "So, care to explain what happened to our plan?"

Jack sniffed in annoyance. "I don't have to explain anything. I'm the mastermind behind everything, and I can make things up as I go if I please. It's part of the genius of it all." He smiled again, gold glinting brilliantly in the sunlight.

Meg snorted. "He didn't think you could do it, so he decided it would be so much better to _swim under a boat_ and _climb up the side_ of that ship and then _swing over to this ship_ and take it."

"You didn't think I could take out three soldiers at once, now did you?" I huffed. "How insulting."

"Luv, I doubt you could take out a drunkard in a duel," he countered.

"I'll have you know I can fence very well," I defended.

He just rolled his eyes. Now I was definitely insulted.

"At least you weren't humiliated," whispered Meg as Jack went back to the helm. "I still have this back pack, you know. So when we were swimming, Will had to constantly help me walk because, I swear, it was heavier than me. Then when we were climbing up the ship, he had to practically shove me the whole way up, backpack and all. It was…utterly embarrassing." Meg shuddered. "And now we have to be stuck on this boat with them for the next month. Could this get any worse?"

I went to the railing, and I could literally feel my hopes dropping to the pits of the earth. We were leaving Port Royal. We were leaving my truck. My freedom. And my only chance to get home. "A month you say? On a ship?" I groaned deeply. "You know, I've read a few things about sailing, and they all say the same thing: you get board really quickly. I bet you that nothing exciting happens while were here."

If that wasn't the biggest understatement of the year, I don't know what was.


	7. The Tortuga Chronicles: The Incident

AN: So, now that school has become less overbearing, I've managed to obtain a creative streak, at least for this story. So I'm updating again.

The next few chapters are just something to have fun with. I always wondered what happened between Port Royal and Tortuga...so I'm creating that.

Thank you for all the reviews. They are extremely appreciated!

Oh, yes, before I forget, I would like to dedicate the next thirteen chapters to "Meg," by whom I am inspired by every day.

Enjoy.

**Introduction to the Tortuga Chronicles**

The following is the account of our time on the Interceptor, time totaling to about three weeks. I have only included the most interesting stories.

I would like to say one thing first: I cannot stand being bored. I must having something to amuse me in one way or another. If I don't have something of that sort, I will either sleep, or create my own amusement.

Jack did not let us sleep.

I hope this is an adequate explanation for the following stories.

* * *

My mother has told me stories of sailing off the Oregon coast with her grandfather. As a little girl she loved it, but one day she saw a person throwing up multiple times on a boat, and ever since then, she gets seasick on a boat.

This really has nothing to do with the rest of the story, except that it is an interest tid bit of information.

What I would like to say is that I discovered I do not get sick from the motion of the boat (or, because it's so big, _ship_. Jack about slaughtered me when I asked how big his _boat_ was…). It took a day or two to get used to the constant rocking, which, of course, became the great amusement for both men, but I eventually found my balance and was able to traverse the deck with relative ease.

No, the first day was pleasant enough, especially since I was finally able to EAT again. It wasn't five star restaurant food, but even if it was just jerky and some porriage looking thing, I wasn't going to be picky.

Until the following morning, that is.

The beautiful thing about movies is they have the ability to leave out the nasty details of a story, and instead focus on the more important things, mainly, the plot line. This, however, proved more than unfortunate for both Meg and me. The thing that was never mention was this: food of this time period is disgusting, and is usually rotted. Now, when a human consumes food like that, generally they throw up. A lot.

Remember how hungry I was? Well, when I get hungry, I EAT. And considering I wasn't sure just when my next meal was, I ATE.

So I threw up. A lot.

Then again.

And again.

And then Meg joined me as I perched myself over the railing, and she threw up. A lot.

And again.

And again.

This was only the first five hours of the next day, and we remained like that for the next three. And while I will leave out the more disgusting parts of the sickness, there are some interesting little tid bits that might be amusing.

First is that after the first five hours, both Meg and I decided that this would be best carried out with a toilet underneath our mouth. There was, of course, the slight issue that the toilet hadn't been invented yet, so we made do with that hole thing that all ships have. You know, the public porta potty thing?

This proved to be a great problem after about twenty minutes. You see, the system we had agreed upon was this: after one of us threw up, we traded places, and eventually the other one threw up too. So we pretty much inhabited the area of the bathroom.

The problem came when Will suddenly had to use the potty. And we very well weren't willing to give up our position for thirty minutes or however long it takes a man to do his business.

Unfortunately, Jack had acquired some type of egotistical issue that involved complete command of not only the ship, but the captain's quarters as well. This meant that no one, and absolutely _no one_, was allowed to even enter the threshold.

Now, this private section happened to have a private bathroom, equipped with a window view and all (I managed a quick peek before I became sick, for which I got a thorough yelling from Jack). Will would have been quite capable of using it…except for the problem that Jack wouldn't let him.

So Will was miserable too.

When night fall came on the first day, Meg and I thought that we might have improved. Will was finally able to use the bathroom, and we ate some type of biscuit that was soft enough that if there was enough spit in your mouth, you could bite it. We also some type of pickled vegetable.

Four hours later, we were throwing up again, much to Jack's amusement, but certainly not to ours.

But this time it was worse. While Meg was only blowing chunks every two hours, _I_ had somehow managed to develop a terrible case of diarrhea (which I still can't quite understand because I'm almost positive that NONE of the food ever actually got through my system). This required that I have the bathroom to myself for at least an hour at a time. And not only did this conflict with Meg's schedule, but Will wasn't feeling too hot either, and needed a good hour for himself as well.

There was only one solution, and in my half crazed and sickened state, I was determined to carry it out one way or another.

Get Jack's bathroom.

"Operation Bathroom" began not long after the beginning of the second day arrived. Meg was throwing up at the moment, and Will was pacing painfully. Somehow, despite my nausea, I climbed the stairs to the open air that smelled disgustingly of salt, and consequently made me throw up. Jack was walking by at this moment, and when I was done, smiled at me. "You'll feel better soon, lass. Your stomach just needs to toughen up."

I glared. "We are getting new, _fresh_ food. Do you understand?"

I leaned over the railing as another wave of nausea swept over me.

Jack patted me kindly. "Luv, I'm a pirate. And these are heavily guarded English waters."

"Then steal some or _something_! You're a pirate! That's what you do!"

I heaved again. Most of it was just dry heaves now. But then I started getting another funny feeling in my stomach…shoot.

"--plenty good. And you should be happy that we have fresh water--"

"Will wants to talk with you," I gasped. "Operation Bathroom" was taking effect…hopefully it would be effective.

Jack frowned. "About what?"

"Coordinates or something. Seems to think we're off course from Tortuga."

I prayed that he wouldn't pry into the statement any closer, and was pleased as I heard him grumble "Blasted eunch" as he headed toward the stairs. Must have bruised his ego or something.

The millisecond his head disappeared, I dashed toward the private quarters best I could and lunged toward the bathroom door, but not before grabbing a chair and securing it under the door to make sure Jack couldn't get into the bathroom.

It wasn't long before I heard angry footsteps enter and a fist pounding at the door.

"Open up! You're not allowed to be in there!"

"Put a cap on it!" I shouted back, holding the chair in place as he tried the knob. "I'm sick! And Meg and Will both need the bathroom below deck! You know that saying 'Three's company?' Guess what, it's true!"

"I'm captain and what I say goes!"

"_I'm_ a lady. Do you intend to mistreat--" I leaned over the hole and let loose a series of dry heaves.

There was silence at the door.

Operation Bathroom: success.

* * *

The three days were up, and Jack docked at a tiny Dutch settlement to buy a whole batch of new food and more fresh water. Except for the occasional stomach ache, all four of us were fairly content and comfortable.

However, it wasn't long before I became bored. In fact, it only took about four hours after setting sail from this Dutch settlement that the boredom was so excruciatingly painful that I ran up to Jack (who was at the wheel thingy) and stated, "Is there _anything_ to do? I can't _stand_ this any more."

Jack sniffed and I saw the corners of his mouth frown ever so slightly. "This, luv, is a ship. There is always something to be done, especially with only four people on it. However, _you_ are not a sailor, and therefore are completely useless in any of these tasks."

"I can steer." Well, I probably could. I mean, cars have wheels, just like this boat. How different could it be?

Jack shot an acid glare at me. "_No_."

"This isn't even your ship."

"_No_. I'm captain. I steer."

I sighed and sat on the deck, looking out to the ocean. Meg was sleeping at the moment, still a little weak from being so sick. I, on the other hand, was fully energized and about ready to crack. I had to do _something_. "You know, you haven't slept very much the last few days, with the three of us spending most of the time in the bathroom--"

"My bathroom."

"--and you're looking a little glassy eyed. I could take over for maybe two hours or so, let you get some type of nap."

"I am a pirate. We don't nap."

I snorted. "Pirates need their sleep too. I bet you haven't had more than three hours at a time for the past few days."

To sum it up, after about two hours of sitting there silently and every once in a while mentioning that I ought to steer, Jack finally gave in and let me steer. The only reason that I can fully attribute this to is that he was actually extremely tired, and the wind was fairly calm.

So for about ten minutes I was in bliss. Then my arms began getting tired…and my feet sore…and my face itchy…then my whole body was itchy…and my legs became unbearably restless…and then the wind picked up considerably.

The following is an account of something that is now referred to as nothing more than The Incident. The words, to this day, still bring chills of excitement to my mind, and I'm sure chills of fear for Jack.

It was the wind that really started it all. With it blowing into my face wishfully, I couldn't help but remember the times I had driven around town, just letting the breeze wash over me…with the radio cranked up and full bass playing…

That was the problem. I needed music!

I sighed in frustration. Well, I couldn't very well go down to my backpack to retrieve my MP3 player…Jack would probably skin my alive…

"Hey! You're steering the ship!"

I smiled in relief at the familiar voice of Meg, and saw her bounding up to the helm, refreshed and her normal self again. "After about two hours of periodically bugging Jack. But even the strongest can fall."

She laughed. "I'm _so_ that I'm done being sick. It felt like I was throwing up my stomach."

"Well…from the amount of stomach acid we did manage to heave from our systems…"

"That sounded an awful lot like 'The Molecule,'" Meg sighed. "Stop it. We aren't at school. We don't need to sound smart."

"Well, considering the company we're keeping, I'm afraid I can help it."

"Oh, that was mean…" We looked at each other. And laughed.

"I'm surprised that Jack actually even let me touch this, especially since I high-jacked his private quarters."

"Was it any better than the public one? Rats kept popping their heads in there. It was freaking me out."

I shook my head. "Meg, this is the eighteenth century. I don't think the word 'hygiene' has even been invented yet." She laughed again, and I sighed contently. "You know, this kinda feels like driving around town. You, me, the wind…except we have no car. Just a boat. But it feels like a car." I looked up at the sails, which were full of wind, and suddenly it just tumbled from my mouth: "Do you think that a ship can do a donut?"

Meg stared at me. "A donut?"

"Not the food. You know, a three sixty degree turn? Do you think it could?"

We stood stock still, staring at each other. I knew both of us were thinking the same thing: this was stupid. But, of course, that had never stopped us before…

"If we were to do this…" started Meg, "how would we?"

I scanned the deck. "Well, the ship needs to be going fairly fast, which it is. I suppose we would just drop the anchor, and I would twist the wheel really fast…"

Our eyes met again. And that familiar spark lit between them.

Within seconds, Meg was down by the anchor, fiddling with whatever held it in place. Then she looked up. "You sure?"

I scoffed good-naturedly. "What type of question is that?"

We smiled, both very mischievous, or dangerous.

"On three," I said. "One…two…THREE!"

SPLASH!

The anchor dropped, the rope became taut, and I was spinning the wheel with everything I had.

The boat began to turn, and suddenly, it jerked, and we made an extremely sharp left, and both Meg and I went tumbling toward the railing.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

We both screeched at the top of our lungs, something to the effect of a dying duck. The ship was still turning, and then a dire fear gripped me. The ship was…tipping.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

We both screamed again, and with a Herculean amount of effort, I began scrambling my way toward the wheel, scratching fiercely at the wooden planks. Thankfully, I managed to grasp one of the pegs before the ship reached its center of gravity, and I held on with every ounce of strength I had, my eyes shut tight with terror.

One more sharp left turn, and the ship came back down, as did my adrenaline rush. I sighed with relief, collapsing to the ground in a heap of weariness. Opening my eyes a crack, I saw…

Boots. Big, honking brown things. And they looked an awful lot like Jack's…

Looking up, I saw that, in fact, they were Jack's. Attached to them was a viciously furious expression and icy eyes that bore down at me as he clutched the wheel. "I didn't stop the ship, did I?" I squeaked out.

"_No_, you _didn't_," hissed Jack. Snatching my collar, he hoisted me up until we were nose to nose. "I don't suppose you'd care to _explain_? After all, I'd like to know why you almost managed in _capsizing_ a full navy vessel."

I swallowed nervously. Jack's face, much to my surprise, was almost as white as parchment, and he seemed to be quaking slightly. "Well…um……." I glanced to the side, trying to find Meg. "I…uh…well, you see…"

"Spit it out, lass," he snarled.

"A donut," I said hurriedly. "Just wanted to see if the ship could do a donut."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, but with no less anger. "What in Davy Jones is a 'donut'?"

"Well, there is two definitions, really. One is a type of food--"

"Which, obviously, this ship can't turn into."

"Actually, this food is round, kind of like a pastry. Now the other type is…a full circle turn."

Jack's face was stony. "You wanted to see if this ship could do a full circle?"

"Uh…"

He dropped me suddenly, and I stumbled backward. "Well, what do you think?" he growled, motioning to the ocean wildly.

I looked around me, noticing Meg, who was conveniently out of Jack's vision. "I think it can. Of course, it I had been holding harder--"

"And this is where the problem lays," he snarled, taking my arm and leaning my down the steps. "You are to _never_ touch that wheel again, or I will personally do something very terrible to you. Savvy?"

"Savvy."

To say the least, I never _did_ touch that wheel again.

But I sure had a fun time trying.


	8. The Tortuga Chronicles: Punishment

AN: Sorry for slow updates: they will continue to be slow until school is out, and my other story will NOT be updated until that time. I am regretful, but I have not the energy to be creative for both, and frankly, this one takes minimal effort.

These Tortuga Chronicles will be fairly short in length, just quick little amusing stories where I can have complete creative domain instead of trying to insert myself between the dialogue. While this may provide for...interesting tid bits (and a peek into the inner workings of my head), I honestly hope you enjoy them.

Enjoy.

* * *

The following night was boring and terribly restless for three reasons. One: I was not in my own bed, and frankly, I have a hard time sleeping in nothing more than a simple hammock. I spent the entire ten hours of night trying to not fall out. Two: I was not with Meg. We were in separate cabins, which brings us to reason three. Jack had locked me in, and I could not get out. Shortly after sunset he had dragged both of us down below decks (as if we hadn't spent enough time here anyways) and thrown us into small rooms with a hammock and blanket. While I wasn't one hundred percent sure, I suspected this had something to do with The Incident.

Of course, the problem with locked doors is that you can't get out, leaving me permanently stuck in a dingy, smelly cabin with some threadbare blanket and dysfunctional hammock. To top the whole thing off, I had to go pee really badly at about three o'clock in the morning. And if the hammock hadn't been bad enough, it was this issue that really kept me from sleeping that night. After banging repeatedly on the door loudly, and screaming through the hatch at Jack (I was in a top cabin, so the water didn't reach the port hole), I determined that he was making me as miserable as possible. The last hours of the early morning were spent with me doing multiple potty dances around the room, and when Jack finally came and unlocked the door, I burst through, but not after giving him a nasty look. Consequently, I collided with Meg, who also seemed to have to go the bathroom really bad.

This of course, was a problem. I not only had to go pee, but number two as well.

Forgetting any pact of friendship we held, Meg and I raced to the bathroom door, practically shoving each other the entire way down.

She won.

And now I was stuck outside, my legs so twisted together I could hardly hop. There was only one solution of course. Operation Bathroom Two.

Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack nudging Will awake. This operation would be fairly simple compared to the first. I dashed as fast as I could to the stairs, and painfully hurried up them, trying my best to hold in my waste. I heard Jack yelling at me, obviously he knew exactly what was running through my head, but with an extra burst of speed, I got to his bathroom and slammed the door shut, just as he came into the cabin.

Operation Bathroom Two: success

* * *

"If I recall correctly, Miss Lyn," began Jack, strutting cockily in front of Meg and I, "you asked just yesterday if, "there is anything I can do. I can't stand this anymore!"

I glared up at him, rather irked at his falsetto and crude interpretation of my voice. I didn't sound like a screech owl.

"Well, I am here to tell you that there is certainly _something_ you can both do."

"You said those jobs were for sailors," I corrected. "And since we probably can't sail--"

"Oh, trust me, you most certainly _cannot_ sail," answered Jack. "But this job requires only patience and balance. And I'm sure you both possess these qualities."

Great. I am probably one of the most impatient people in the world, even if I'm silent about it. I was screwed.

"What is it?" asked Meg warily.

Smiling evilly, Jack threw a bucket with rags at me, and a mop at Meg. "Cleaning the deck. And after you have done a thorough scrubbing, you are going to paint the railing green again. I found some paint below deck.

Mopping. I couldn't believe it.

As the oldest of five children, I have developed a certain amount of tolerance for countless jobs; I will weed, pick up rotting apples, dust, clean out trash cans with moldy food, scrub down toilets, wipe down sinks, clean under the sinks, clean my sisters' room, clean up diarrhea, clean up barf, clean up pee, and just about any chore that needs to get done.

But I hate mopping. I have no practical reason for this, other than it is boring, time consuming, and back-breaking. Jack must have had some type of revelation last night to pick this particular job.

"What has you so concerned with the state of this ship?" I shot back mutinously.

"It concerned me when I have four extra hands with nothing to do. Start scrubbing."

Well, we really couldn't do much about it, so we set to, Meg taking the mop, and I taking the rags.

I sighed loudly, bending over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

There was a brief pause, then Meg sighed, even louder.

I stopped glanced up, and sighed again, letting it last for at least three seconds.

Meg smiled, and rolling her eyes back, she let out another sigh that quickly turned into a gag.

"Stop that!" growled Jack, who was leaning over a table, studying a map. Will, who was mending some rope a few feet away, looked up in surprise. "Not _you_," growled Jack. Will watched us, and when Jack looked away, make a face.

We giggled. Meg stood the mop upright and set her chin on the top, making her head look like it was skewered on a pole. Will snorted, then took the rope and wrapped it around his neck, letting his tongue fall out. We laughed again, mine coming out more like successive snorts.

"Work!" demanded Jack, giving Will a particularly harsh glance.

We did for about an hour, without doing much to distract Jack, just making disgruntled faces every once in awhile. Then I started humming "Whistle While You Work," which is amazing in and of itself since I have only seen _Snow White_ once, and I was half asleep the whole time.

Meg started doing the actual whistling after a moment of listening. I joined in, but my whistling skills are rather iffy, and soon we were so off pitch, even I was getting a headache.

"Be quiet!" yelled Jack. He seemed a little red in the face, and sweat was shining on his brow. I'm sure we looked something similar.

I hunched over again, frustrated from being shouted at. My father commonly yelled at me (he was losing his hearing, so its not really his fault), and while I usually shut up and did as told, it never made me particularly content.

It wasn't long until Meg was humming "It's a Small World After All," possibly the most annoying song in existence. My own temper was beginning to flare, but I bit my tongue in frustration. No, I couldn't get angry. That would mean Jack had won whatever competition we had entered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack, who was now at the helm, give Meg the dagger glare that was becoming increasingly familiar. Nudging her, I made the _you better stop now_ face.

_Finally_ Jack went into his cabin, but not after scrutinizing our work. He seemed more upset after this (which was no doubt due the fact there was nothing he could criticize; we may have been a bug, but our work ethic was outstanding). At any rate, it left us alone with Will, who was watching us with interest.

"What was that song you were singing?"

* * *

To cut a long section of story short, we taught Will all of the words to "It's a Small World After All" (I found this somewhat amusing, considering he, in a way, shared a home with this ride. Meg didn't seem to see the humor, and Will certainly didn't). After that, we taught him the words to "The Song that Never Ends," which, while he liked the tune, couldn't understand why anyone would make a song with no end, and I promised that when Jack came out and we sang the song, he would understand.

Unfortunately, we didn't notice when Jack came out, because we were too preoccupied with teaching Will "The Chicken Dance."

"No, Will, you flap your arms for the chicken," corrected Meg. "Like this." She proceeded to demonstrate, bobbing her head to add to the effect. "The hands are for the duck."

"Do I need to move my head to?" Will tried to copy her, but his turned into more of a twitchy jerk. What a sweet guy…

I giggled. "No, you don't. Just flap your _elbows_…not the arms, what were you thinking, Meg." I started to flap my elbows and twirled around…only to bump right into, you guessed it, Jack.

He seemed to be in a more tolerable mood, just looking down at me in confusion, if not a little glassy-eyed. At first I didn't know why, but then one of his particular scents (there are numerous, and none of them pleasant) smelled stronger than usual, and looking down, I saw the bottle in his hand. Rum. _Right_.

I backed away cautiously, not sure what to do. I had never been around a drunk man before since people in my town don't get drunk, usually, and neither of my parents drink.

"Interesting…movement, you have there," he slurred.

"Heh, heh…" I answered, taking another, much more disgusted look at the bottle. "It's actually a dance."

"Dance…how fascinating. However, dancing doesn't sound much like scrubbing…"

Holy cow. He sounded just like my math teacher. How absurd.

"We have it done," answered Meg. It was true. While teaching Will the songs, we had gotten the rest of the deck clean.

"Then I suppose you have the painting to do."

I smiled. Drunk Jack seemed quite a bit more senile than sober Jack…and less likely to lose his temper…so there was a good use for alcohol, after all. "Possibly. Unfortunately, we can't seem to locate the paint…"

"'S right here," he held up his other hand, shoving a bucket into my unsuspecting arms, but smiling grandly despite the fact. "The railings. Savvy?"

"As clear as gravy," I mumbled.

Well, frankly, the painting was rather boring. At this point, it was around noon, I was hungry (but not quite willing to test the food again), and terribly hot. And, with the combination of my best friend and the hot sun beating down on me (therefore depleting my brain cells to half), things went a little loopy.

Instead of having a nice smooth green color along the railing, Meg and I silently created an amazing work of art, which consisted of flowers, butterflies, smiling suns, and I even attempted to recreate "My Little Pony." This didn't work to well, and I quickly covered it with a large heart.

And this was the end of our punishment. Just that.

Of course, Jack discovered the railings mural. But that's another story, one that I am not going to repeat, for it is just too gruesome.


	9. The Tortuga Chronicles: Canasta

AN: Hey everybody! Sorry for, once again, taking forever to update. Summer has been...amazing, and I've been working on my other story lately. But, for fair warning, this is probably going to be the last update the entire summer, for both _All For You_ and this one.

Which is why I am uploading two chapters! This one might not be extremely exciting (unless you know the game), but both chapters are setting up the relationship that the four of us will hold for the remainder of the story, so I consider them pretty important chapters.

Oh, and another warning. There is going to be a long section explaining how to play canasta; if you already know how, you can skip, if you don't know, READ IT OR THE REMAINING CHAPTER WILL NOT MAKE SENSE.

Okay...I think that's all I have to say, other than thank you for the reviews. They are much appreiciated!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

I had come to a dilemma. And, as was of late, it involved Jack.

The problem was which state I preferred him in: inebriated or sober.

Now, I knew that drinking was bad for a person, so my practical side was telling me that Jack was pretty much digging his own grave, and therefore it was bad when he was drunk. But on the other hand…Jack didn't yell at me when he had that bottle in his hand. In fact, he found both Meg and I rather amusing, cracking jokes with us and making clever remarks that often sent both of us rolling on the ground with laughter. Unfortunately, there was the side effect that, when not being extremely clever and funny, he was your average stupid drunk man. This happened more often than I ever thought possible.

At least when he was sober, he was blunt and to the point; traits that I hold in high esteem. And he wasn't just clever, but sharp too, like a captain of a ship really should be. Jack may have been yelling at me constantly, but there was always the reassurance that when I argued with him, I was arguing with _him_, and not the rum.

To say the least, the movie barely capture even a facet of his character. He wasn't just some pirate that could talk his way out of things, have amazing adventures, and manage to do it while half drunk. Jack had things that annoyed him (_plenty_, I assure you…), and his temper was amazingly short. But at the same time, he was also infinitely understanding (though not to me), surprisingly responsible, and riotously funny; in a sarcastic, teasing way that the movie never shows, but that cracked me up so much it hurt (despite the fact that, more often than not, we were butting horns than having a normal conversation). No, the movie hardly covered the sober Jack.

It was worse for Will. Here he was, portrayed as the gung-ho hero love-sick over Elizabeth; kind of quiet, stubborn, and honest.

While the love-sick for Elizabeth was true, almost everything else was hardly correct.

Will was not quiet. When Jack was talking, he often had the respect to remain silent, but when _he_ started talking, it was a hard time shutting him up. Oh, and he _loved_ to sing (hence the reason he wanted to learn our songs. And he wouldn't stop singing "It's a Small World After All" for about three days). And dance. And recite stories.

The worse shock came when I realized how…_un_-serious he was. I have a brother who is excessively quiet in public, to the point when you might wonder if he's mute, but then turns into the Little Rascal when at home. Amplify that by about three, minus the excessive quietness, and that was Will. He was just as funny as Jack, but in a much more goofy, slapstick way. It was hilarious. No wonder Elizabeth fell in love with him.

It didn't take long for me to find something that could unite us all, regardless of personality differences and conflicts.

Canasta

* * *

Canasta was the sole reason I had five decks of rook cards in my track bag (yes, I learned with Rook cards, not face cards...).

My family is, to put it lightly, addicts to the game. I love it.

It wasn't long until I realized how much both men enjoyed playing card games. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to teach them _my_ game. That way, we could play it! It just about made me cry with happiness. To top it all off, Meg wasn't familiar with it either.

That night, I gathered everybody around the galley table.

"Welcome," I greeted. "We are gathered here today to celebrate…"

Meg snorted. I glanced at her, pouting slightly.

"…to celebrate the joys of…_Canasta_."

Will widened his eyes. "Ooo…that sounds intriguing."

Jack just blinked. He was sober at the moment; my unique antics were not amusing him. We were still at the not-quite-so-bitter-enemies-but-most-certainly-_not_-friends stage. My personal suspicions were that this general icy regard from him was due solely because of The Incident; he treated Meg more or less decently, and _I_ had admitted to being the brain behind the operation. Coincidence? I think not.

"First, we deal out two sets of eleven cards, each. But don't look at the cards. Yet."

The other three began dealing their cards. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will staring intently at his hand. "William Turner!" I shrieked.

He turned to me, and I saw that both eyes were closed, accompanied by a very goofy smile. What a tease. "Yes?" he asked.

Meg started laughing, but in the process, dropped her cards.

I sighed, and I heard Jack moan next to me. This might take some time.

* * *

Finally, we were all dealt out, and I had explained the logistics of the game to both Jack and Will. We would team up (first round would be Meg/Jack vs. Me/Will), and the goal was to get as many canastas as possible. A canasta was a group of seven of the same type of card (ones, fives, sevens, etc.) There were two types: clean and dirty. Cleans were canastas where all seven cards were the same card, dirty where at least one card was a "wild" card (with rook decks, it was either a two, fourteen, or the rook card). The dirty canastas could not have more wild cards than real cards at any given time (meaning the max any dirty could hold was three wilds). The way the game was scored was by points, and each card held a different point value: one/two was twenty points, four-seven were five, eight-thirteen were ten, and rook/fourteen were fifty points. Red and yellow threes were -300; the other threes were five points. All cards, except for the two/fourteen/rook cards (the wild cards) and the threes (the "bad" cards), could be made into canastas. Dirty canastas were worth three hundred points, the clean ones worth five hundred. To initially close a canasta, it needed seven cards; after that point, you could keep adding cards to the closed canasta, but you could not add wild cards. Points were counted by first counting the number of canastas and adding up those points, then counting out each individual card and adding that total to the canasta total. (For example: there are two clean canastas, so that total is 1000 points. The canastas are of tens and fives. The ten deck holds fifteen cards (seven original, but eight were added after being closed), and so that has 150 points. The fives have twenty cards, and that holds 100 points. So the total points would be 1250). The round was over when some one emptied both hands (the two hands of eleven each). The game was over when one team reached 10,000 points. During the round, one hand was used, but the other was not looked at until the first hand was emptied. A turn consisted of drawing two cards, putting cards into canastas or creating new ones, and then discarding one card. There were two ways to empty the first hand: either discard out, which meant the turn was over, or "play through," which meant the turn was not over. Obviously, if someone could not play a card, their turn was over, but if they only had one card, they would have the option of discarding it to get their next hand. To empty the second hand was harder: the person has to play all of the cards in the hand, no discard out option. The team that emptied a second hand first (it didn't matter which player) gained an extra 100 points.

Obviously, the idea of the game was to win. With the most points.

The first game went fairly smoothly, if not a tad boring. Jack and Will were both trying desperately to understand the game, and thanks to their intuition and cleverness, they had figured it out by the end (for the record, Me/Will won).

The second game was a bit more interesting.

It was Jack that insisted that we team up boys vs. girls (or _men_ vs. girls. Jack didn't appreciate being called a boy, which, as he vividly described, was, "nothing more than a stunted bean-pole bleep that didn't know the difference between north and south, let alone up from down." Whatever _that's_ suppose to mean…). I readily agreed, happy at the chance to finally show Jack up at something.

"Okay, you go first, Will," I instructed, for he was on the left of the dealer (me).

"Right-o," he said, and upon drawing the two cards, frowned. "Drats."

He must have picked up that word from Meg.

"What are they?" asked Jack, trying to peek over the table.

"Sit back down!" I instructed, swatting him on hand. "No discussion between teammates."

He glowered at me; the usual expression that I saw on his face. "_Team_mates infers a team, meaning I can bloody discuss all I want."

"Not in this game," I growled. "The hands are held by the hand holder _only_."

"Luv, you're dealing with pirates," answered Jack. "We are not the most virtuous of characters." Grabbing Will's hand from across the table, he studied it before I slapped his hand again.

"Luv? Since when did you start calling me anything that suggested familiarity? And don't you _dare_ do that again," I ordered, motioning to Will's hand.

"We've been on the same ship for nearly a week now, and, unfortunately, it is going to be much longer. We will become _very_ familiar. And don't order me around, _Evalyn_. _You_ aren't captain."

I narrowed my eyes, but sat back down and said nothing. Two days ago Jack had discovered what my real name was; and though I don't have a problem with people calling me Evalyn, the way Jack said it made it sound like a disease. Not something I particularly enjoyed.

"Shut up…_please_," begged Meg. "Will, can you meld fifty?"

Oh, yes, I almost forgot to explaining _melding_…also known as the bane of my existence in Canasta. Remember how each card is worth a certain amount of points? Well, to even begin a canasta, one had to have three cards: three of the same, or two with a wild card. But at the beginning of each round, to start the play, a certain number of points needed to be put down to start canastas. The minimum number at the beginning was fifty; for example, putting down three fives (15 points) and a rook with two fours (60 points) would meet the requirements. If the player couldn't put down the points, then the duty passed to the next player on the team. However, the more points you earned after each round, the more points were required for melding. These were as follows: 0-3500 pts--50 meld; 3501-7000--90 meld; 7001-9999--120 meld.

Back to the game.

Will studied his cards carefully, making sure to take his sweet time, which was driving me insane (patience is not a strong virtue for me). _Finally_, with a defeated sigh, he shook his head.

"Here, take this wild, I don't need it," insisted Jack, thrusting it under his nose.

"_How hard is it to play by the rules_!" I shrieked, taking the card and shoving it back into Jack's hand. "Honestly!"

"I'm a _pirate_! I was born a cheater," defended Jack, leaning back grumpily.

"You weren't _born_ a pirate," I corrected. "At least try a better excuse than _that_."

"I think I'm going to draw now," interrupted Meg loudly as she took two cards, ignoring Jack's indignant sounds at being disregarded. She too studied the cards, but a large smile quickly graced her face as she slammed down three canastas to the table. "Aha! Two cleans and a dirty. Beat that!" Meg turned to Jack, grinning triumphantly.

Jack shrugged. "Very well." Drawing his own two cards, he glanced at his hand before laying down three clean canastas. "I believe I just did."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will mimicking Jack silently, and I burst out laughing; not so much at the absurdity of it, but the fact he was mocking his own teammate.

Jack looked up, something like an alert animal, to see what in the world I was cracking up about, but Will had put on a stone face. This only made me laugh harder, to the point where I was doubled over, head on the table.

"Quit snorting like a hyena and draw, _Evalyn_," ordered Jack after determining he would not find the source of my laughter.

I rolled my eyes and went to draw.

* * *

One round later found the girl team in a very bad position.

We were 600 points down.

As in…_negative_ 600 points.

This was against Jack/ Will, who had 3,876 points.

Meg was glowering heatedly at the table as she shuffled, and I imagine my face was something similar. How in the world had we come to this point? The horror of it all…

And once again, Jack was not above gloating.

"Well, this next round shouldn't be _that_ terrible," he teased, dealing himself the two hands. "Look at the bright side. All you can go now is up. Of course, _catching_ up is another matter entirely…"

I looked under the table to see if Jack had a rum bottle hidden somewhere; he was more…jovial than usual, and I had made an explicit rule that no alcohol was to be present during the game.

Nothing was there.

It must be his ego then.

I started the round, setting down four canastas, three dirty and one clean. Surely a good omen.

Then Will set down three clean canastas and one dirty.

Dang it. Meg and I exchanged a worried glance.

Jack let out a contented sigh. "Well, well, well…"

"Shut up," snapped Meg, handing me two wilds and three fives, to make a new canasta. "You never know what could happen. We might win."

Jack snorted, handing Will five cards. "Six hundred down? Highly…improbable. I would even dare say…_impossible_."

I drew two cards and frowned. "Oh, good grief, be quiet, Jack."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do you _want_ to be thrown into the brig?"

The remaining three of us went silent, and my frown deepened. "She tells you to 'shut up,' and you blow her off," I said, pointing at Meg, "and I say 'be quiet,' and you threaten me with _jail_?"

"You've already proven yourself a dangerous personage to be on a ship," he defended, adjusting his hat defiantly. "The Incident?"

"That was one time!" I cried out. "And I haven't done anything else dangerous. What is it about me that you can't stand? _Really_?"

Will quietly set down another canasta, and motioned to Meg to draw.

Jack fiddled with the chain in his hair, and for a time, I thought he was just ignoring me. Finally, he answered, "You don't listen to me. You're too irrational, too…risky. Too…independent."

"Independent?" I spat. "Would you rather I clung to you like a five year old?"

"Jack," whispered Meg, "It's your turn."

He ignored her. "This is the problem! I'm not used to women…acting like you! You…you…talk too much," he finished, taking his two cards and handing some to Will.

My initial response would have been anger, but after glancing at Meg, we both burst out laughing.

Between the two of us, Meg was most definitely the more talkative, especially in public. In fact, between the two of us, she was also the more risky; me being the one who saw the practical side of things. Though, over the course of our long friendship, she certainly had rubbed off on me. How else to explain The Incident? For a moment, I wondered why Jack didn't see Meg the same way, but then it occurred to me that Meg had the sense to _not_ converse (fight) with Jack as much as I did.

Actually, Jack and Will had an opportunity to see us as very few had before: just ourselves, where we could do anything, say anything, and be anything we darn well felt like. School certainly never offered this type of opportunity, and generally, when we were acting like…ourselves (crazy, idealistic, …interesting), we were alone. Just us two.

At Jack's statement, I realized something very interesting about myself: I wasn't as practical as I thought myself to be. And I was independent…strange. I had never thought myself independent.

My thoughts didn't help the argument at hand, though. "Talk too much? You know what, maybe I'll just take the vow of silence. Would that make you feel better?"

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I cause you any emotional damage, but if I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who dragged us here, sailing across the Caribbean on a mission we have no connection with _at all_," I huffed. "I don't feel any particular need to please you."

Jack glared heatedly at me. "You would have told Norrington."

"No, I wouldn't have. I keep my word," I responded, glaring right back.

He gave no reply, instead staring at me with a mixture of resentment and confusion. With a shake of his head, he drew his two cards (for it was his turn), muttering under his breath, "_Women_."

* * *

We were just starting the last round, the second and third ones being played with a dreadful silence that had me squirming uncontrollably.

The score was us: 5,897; them: 8,098.

The third round had proved terrible for Jack/Will, while bountiful for Meg/Me, meaning we now had a slim shot at winning.

I voiced this opinion, and it was no surprise when Jack contradicted.

"There isn't a chance. We only have to get two thousand points. You have to get over four thousand."

"Four thousand is quite possible," I argued. "And anyways, it's who goes out first, remember?"

Ah, yes, a little detail I forgot to mention. Remember that term 'going out'? Well, on the last round, which ever team 'goes out' first is the one who wins the game. Generally, the team with the most points go out first, but not always. I suppose getting the most points to win the game was not a correct statement. The true statement would be getting to ten thousand points so you can go out to win the game.

And it is this little truth that our hope clung to.

Will was skeptical too, however. "Four thousand? Highly unlikely, Lyn. We're going to get two thousand before that."

Meg narrowed her eyes competitively. "Wanna bet?"

Jack seemed to perk up at this challenge. "Actually…yes." He turned to me, smiling in a scandalously evil way. "How about…a night in the brig?"

I looked at Meg fleetingly, and though there was a look of doubt on her face, the answer was already off my tongue. "In exchange for a night in your cabin. You can sleep in the brig."

Jack mulled this over in his head before nodding. "I'm glad to see you're up to the challenge. Deal." He stuck out his hand, and I shook it.

The game was on.

What Jack and Will didn't realize was that, now with the threat of losing the only comfortable living space we possessed(and possibly gain one with a real bed), Meg and I were not about to give up and lose.

We were going to _win_.

Tension was high; the humid air cause sweat to roll down our faces, and flies kept landing on my cheeks. I couldn't hold still, couldn't concentrate. The galley was stuffy, hot, and all around uncomfortable.

We _had_ to win.

As far as canastas went, us girls exceeded the men easily; both of us had outstanding first hands, and outstanding second hands too. But, as Will had pointed out, they only needed two thousand points.

A big scare came when Will smiled gleefully, the not, so-goofy-trying-to-make-you-laugh smile that he usually gave us, but the elated, I-am-honestly-going-to-bounce-off-my-chair-with-happiness smile. He put all the cards down…until he realized that he held one three in his hand. He couldn't play the three, meaning he couldn't go out and win the game.

Jack swore loudly and beat his fists to the table; Meg and I sighed in relief.

Another scare came when Will drew again, this time with no threes (I peeked. And it wasn't my fault, because he was holding them so far in front of him I could see it anyway). He set down all the cards and looked up in satisfaction. "There. We win."

"No you don't!" I cried. "That canasta only has two fives, but three wilds! That's illegal."

Jack swore again and glared at me. I smiled triumphantly back.

Will collected his cards again, a slightly sour look on his face.

* * *

In the end, we won.

It wasn't anything spectacular; aside from the fact that we beat them after being _negative 600_ on our first round.

No, nothing _that_ amazing.

Meg and I had the captain's quarters to ourselves for the night.

Jack and Will slept in the brig.

It was just that simple.

To say the least, I had the best night's sleep so far.

Ah, sweet revenge.


	10. The Tortuga Chronicles: Test of Spikes

AN: Not much to say...other than I can't believe I even thought up this situation. For those of you who thought that "The Incident" was ridiculously stupid...this just might rival that. Yes, me and my friend have done some pretty stupid things...

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Canastas were the main source of amusement during the evenings, the teams now forever set as Meg/Me vs. Jack/Will. It was an ongoing competition of who could win the most games.

Daylight was a different story. Meg and I had already proven that we were incapable of helping to sail (though I was catching on to what everything was called, with the help of Will), and Jack and Will were always busy keeping the ship in order. We were sent to do odd jobs (mopping was Jack's personal favorite), but we also happened to have lots of free time.

For once in my life, I seriously considered doing my homework. I had a huge essay that was due (well, the date had probably past, but my teachers take no excuse for late work), and probably ten math assignments to catch up on. And my NM history homework. And Biology homework. And Latin homework. I mean, at least I would be doing _something_ instead of just sitting there doing nothing except staring blankly out at sea…

Which turned out to be very bad.

I, as of now, hate the ocean. There is just too much of it.

I suppose part of my hated comes from the Midwest. No offense to those living there, who, I am sure, are a group of wonderful people; but…

I _**HATE**_ flat.

Is that word bolded and underlined enough?

I cannot stand the feeling of exposure that flatness gives. I have grown up with the wide open, crystal blue sky…but there was always a mountain there. Or at least a tree, or a hill. Something to break the monotony of the scenery. But the ocean is just…_boring_. Boring and me do not mix. And as had been proven once, boring/me/Meg can cause some pretty wacky things to happen.

This was no exception to the rule.

During one of the numerous periods of nothing, I had been fishing around I my backpack, trying to locate my MP3 player. Instead, I came across my track spikes, which, by the way, were now outfitted with brand new, sharp, pristine spikes, in preparation for our District track meet that had already passed. Meg was sitting on a barrel next to me, looking out the port hole. "I can't believe I have to wait until next year to wear these again," I huffed. "Districts was my last chance to qualify for State in hurdles, and now I've missed it."

"Who says you have to wait until next year?" sighed Meg.

"What am I going to do? Wear them on the deck? They'd scratch the surface all up. And I don't think Jack would appreciate that. He hates me enough as it is." And I do believe that hate is a correct description. I had yet to understand what made Jack dislike me to the extent he did, but whenever I spoke to him, it _always_ turned into an argument.

Meg laughed. "There has to be _something_ we can do with them. I mean, we're surrounded on a ship made of wood--"

"That's what ships are _usually_ made of."

"--shut up. We have these spikes that would dig in nicely. Imagine the starts we could get on this stuff. I think tracks ought to be made of wood."

"Do you realize how much that would hurt if we fell?"

Meg sniffed indignantly. "I was just _imagining_…"

I laughed and sat down next to her. Jack was at the wheel…again. Will was doing something in the rigging. And we were stuck down here staying out of the way. Canasta wouldn't happen until another few hours. "Good grief, I don't think I have ever been this bored," I complained. Taking my spikes, I stuck them in my hands and had them walk up the side of the ship. Meg was watching with unrequited interest, the same type of look that had caused "The Incident." Glancing at her once more, I smiled slightly. "What are you thinking?"

Meg cracked a full blown, trouble-making grin. "The main mast is made of wood."

I looked at her, eyebrow arched. "And?"

She took her spikes and began walking up the side of the ship. "Imagine if this was us."

"Wearing the spikes?"

She nodded.

I snorted, trying to hold in the laughter that was coming. "You do realize that Jack is right there?"

"We wait."

"For what?"

"For him to leave, silly."

I studied her face carefully. "So…we can climb up something and…die? Meg… "The Incident" was bad enough…"

"This won't be as bad," she promised. "We aren't putting the ship in danger, just ourselves. And this is something we're quite capable of getting ourselves out of. Right?"

She smiled assuredly and squeezed my arm. "And, honestly, it has got to better than sitting looking at the ocean for _hours_ on end.

Well, if anything, it certainly _had_ to be better. She had my full vote of confidence immediately, and after grabbing our spikes, we went to the top deck and waited, mulling around innocently.

It wasn't long until Will came out of the rigging, singing, "Whistle While You Work" (taught to him just two days ago), and smiling contently. With a pleasant nod, he walked past us and up to Jack. And within moments, disgruntled sounds of annoyance were being heard from the helm.

"I think you ought to--"

"No, I don't need to," interrupted Jack. "The coordinates are _right_."

"Well, I checked the map this morning, and after watching the sun for the last three hours--"

"You will find that we are taking a short cut."

"Short cut! What are you--" Will threw his hands up in the air, a rare moment where it seemed he might lose his temper. "Jack Sparrow, we are trying to rescue someone I happen to love. We don't have time to take "short cuts" and get lost!"

"Give it up, Will," I yelled to them. "It's like trying to argue with a brick wall. He won't budge, and no form of sound is going to get through that thick skull, so--"

Jack was at my elbow before I could say 'Jack Russell.' "You've been trying my patience since I met you, Evalyn."

I noted very quickly he had not be drinking recently; after some quick calculations, I discovered that, except for one long morning, Jack had, in fact, not consumed any form of rum for the past two days, thanks to my Canasta rules. Great. Now he was going to be excessively irritable. Oh, and there was the fact I had taken his cabin last night…

And, as was my usual response, I too became rather frustrated.

"Good grief, Jack, you could at least listen to Will! Just because you're the _captain_ doesn't make you forever right!"

"That's Captain Sparrow to you, Evalyn," he growled. "And because I am captain, I _am_ forever right."

I could feel myself start to cry. Now, I would like to note this isn't because I was scared, sad, insulted, afraid, but because I was _so stinkin' angry_. Rarely do I cry when hurt, but whenever my temper boils over, after I've gotten a good yell in, I cry, and while I continue to cry, I yell. I had held up all of my anger so far, and now it was pouring out.

Through most of this trip, I had gained the impression that Jack enjoyed butting heads with me. Of course, only about a week had passed so far, but almost anything that I did, I was met with Jack standing in the way, being the bullheaded fruitcake that I had not thought he was capable of becoming. Before, when first seeing the movie, I had seen him as a kooky pirate who was at heart, a good person.

Now that I knew him, I didn't care how good he was at heart, because he sure wasn't being good to _me_.

To say the least, I strongly, immensely, absolutely disliked the man.

"Don't tell me you're _crying_," Jack snorted.

I turned away to brush the tears away, not bothering to answer. Meg came to hug me, and, as my emotions generally behaved, my intense anger swung back to relative calmness very quickly. This man was an idiot, but at least there was Meg to balance out my problems. We would probably be laughing about it tonight.

But Jack didn't seem to want to leave the subject alone: no doubt due to the lack of alcohol running in his veins. "Great, now I have a crying girl on the ship! Why don't both of you…go off somewhere I can't _see_ you. Or better yet, why don't you just…_disappear_, or just get yourselves killed, since you have a knack for that anyway…" With a final livid grunt, he stormed back up to the helm.

Will had come down to our side, and with one final desperate look at us, he chased after Jack. "Wait, Jack, listen…"

Meg and I exchanged glances, and then looked down at our spikes.

Smiling devilishly, Meg yelled back up to Jack, "Well, I'll just take that as permission, then."

We sat down and put on the spikes. Meg's comment had caught both men's attention, and they came over, Will with a look of intense worry, and Jack, who had the grace to look just a little uneasy.

"Permission for what?" Jack asked, watching as we walked toward the main mast with our spikes. "Oi! You're cutting into the deck!"

"Permission to do…_this_," answered Meg, grabbing a rope tat was hanging down. Giving it a good tug, she grinned at me. "Ready, Lyn?"

I took my own rope and pulled at it, making sure it was tight. "Ready as ever. Should we tie them?"

"Probably." We took the ends and tied them to right above our chest, under the arm pits. Taking the rope into our hands, we simultaneously each put a foot on the mast and pulled up.

The foot held.

"Yes!" we shouted together, giving each other a big high five.

Looking over at the two men, I saw that Will now held a look of terrified horror, and Jack of stupefied confusion. "Now, don't get mad at us," I reminded. "We're only doing what we do best, Captain."

"You two can't _honestly_--" began Will, coming toward us to pull Meg down.

Neither she nor I paid any mind.

Instead we climbed up and up and up. I couldn't help but think that the view would have more spectacular if it _changed_ at all, but the thrill at being up so high made up for the lack of scenery. All things considered, the climb was relatively easy; we were in good physical condition, and we were sure not to slip because of the spikes.

Soon we had reached the main topmast (top of the main mast...duh), and the view was just short of outstanding. Off in the distance was the outline of a small island, and little specks signaled boats sailing nearby. Nothing too near, nothing to worry about. Not exactly my preferred mountain range, but interesting in its own right.

"Wow, Meg, look at that!"

I pointed to a large wave coming our way.

It didn't seem to register that it was coming toward _us_, until Meg gave a short scream and clutched her rope harder.

The wave threw itself against the hull and rocked the ship, but neither of us slipped; not even our spikes. These things ought to be used in mountain climbing more often.

"What was that?" she called down.

"Just a wave, nothing to worry about," answered Jack. "Now why don't you come back down, before you _do_ kill yourselves." He paused. "You _can_ come down, right?"

We laughed, and I said, "I thought you wanted us to die?"

I hoped he sensed the humor in my response.

"Well, preferable, but I have my own life being threatened if yours are lost."

Both of us laughed, and watched as Will glared at Jack, or at least imagined him doing that. "We can come down, don't worry," Meg answered.

I almost began climbing down (now, keep in mind this is, like twenty or thirty feet above the deck), but I suddenly felt a loosening around my chest, and saw that the rope I held had come undone from around me. "Shoot. Guess I'm going down anyways," I mumbled.

Meg looked over. "Oh, that sucks, here maybe I can--"

I wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong unless I had looked at her eyes; wide with terror, a scream forming on her lips. I directed my eyes to where hers were pointed, and saw my rope, which happened to be badly tied to the yard (pole thing that the top sail is connected to), coming undone.

I was going to fall.

Luck was the only thing that kept me alive. At the same moment the rope came loose, a particularly large wave crashed against the side of the hull, and I flung toward the yard. Just before I plummeted to the ground, I snatched at the sail itself. It ripped a little, but stayed relatively firm.

Heart pounding in time as I swayed and blood in my mouth, I looked down below me, seeing Will run around frantically, and Jack lolloping behind him. Meg's scream, which I hadn't heard as I was tossed around, faded from the air, and my senses focused on the deck beneath me.

I am not afraid of heights. Usually. But at this instance, a scene from _Horatio Horn blower_ (a miniseries on PBS. Very good. Watch it.) went playing through my head; a young man loses his footing in the rigging and falls, splattering his entrails on the deck.

Suddenly, I was nauseous, my heart sped up, and dizziness over took any reasoning I had. I knew I was going into shock, but the horror of it all was clouding me.

I was too scared to scream; instead, I felt my face go pale.

RIP!

The sail ripped farther, and in an instant I was out of my stupor and hurriedly attempting to climb up to the yard. But my motions were shaky, and I nearly lost my grip.

RIP!

The small part of sail I was clutching to was almost free of the main body. Thankfully, another wave crashed on us, and I went swinging toward the end of the yard…only to grab a badly tied rope.

Once again, luck held out, and the rope stayed put, but just barely.

Another scream from Meg. Before spinning around to face the ocean (I had very little control over my body at this point), I saw _her_ struggling to hold onto the mast: her rope had undone itself too, but she had had the sense to grab the main mast in time. However, she was steadily slipping.

_This was the stupidest idea we've ever had_, I thought to myself. _What in the world were we thinking_? _The death wish_?

"Just a moment, Meg, I'll get you," called Will. He was climbing the rigging expertly toward my friend, and within moments, he had hold of her arm. "Dig in with your shoes and push toward me. There, you're fine now." Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her next to him, and he directed her toward the rope ladder down to the deck.

My distractions had stopped me from noticing the rope in my hands, and as I felt a slipping sensation, I panicked and tried to climb up. The rope slipped just as I grasped the yard.

"Hold on, Evalyn, hold on."

Looking to the right of me, I was surprised to see Jack coming toward me, seeming almost as scared as I was. Why was he coming for me?

The obvious answer was to be the rescue party, but in my state of stupor and shock, I asked, "What are you doing?"

He kept a calm face, still climbing toward me. "Calm down and just stay still. I'll get you."

The faint cries of 'Lyn!' could be heard below from Meg. At least she was safe.

And then my hand started to slip.

"Jack, _Jack_! I'm slipping!" I cried out hoarsely.

Frantically, I tried to swing myself and grab on with my right hand, but instead, Jack snatched it, letting me get a firmer grip with my left. "Swing your left foot up and catch the mast."

After three feeble and shaky attempts, I successfully did as instructed, leaving me to cling like a monkey. Cling is not an apt word. How about…clutch with an iron grip to the point where my body was fused to the mast? Yeah, that's closer.

"Relax, luv," comforted Jack. "I'm not going to let you fall. Now slip your right foot into this rope; don't worry, it's tied well."

Taking my upper arm, he led me to the rope ladder and helped me down to the deck, where Meg tackled me to the ground in a tight hug.

She was shaking, and at the sight of her so relieved and exhausted, I began to cry. This time I wasn't angry, but stressed out to my limit.

I was _never_ doing that again.

"Listen, when I said 'go get yourselves killed,' I wasn't really serious," explained Jack, helping me up.

I wiped away my tears viciously. "I know, I know. It was stupid."

"Was it your idea?"

Meg shook her head. "Mine."

Jack and Will looked at each other, and it was extremely similar to that of exhausted parents exchanging looks over their little five year olds. "Okay…" said Will after an embarrassing moment of silence. "Why don't we go down to the galley, and I'll fix us up something to eat. Then I'll tell you that story about the time when my old friend and I when skinny dipping in a cave by the sea. Should cheer you two up."

Oh yes, Will can cook. And he's very good. The thought of a decent dinner helped to relieve the shock of nearly dying, and to know that it would be coupled with another funny story helped all the more.

Removing my spikes, I followed after Meg, but not before noticing a strange look that Jack was giving me; a confused look, but not angry. Just confused. "What?"

"You didn't scream."

"I was too afraid to really do anything."

He nodded once, then thumped my on my back. "Good girl. I don't like…screaming women," he said when I opened my mouth for an explanation. "Listen, about last night over Canasta…"

"Forget it. I don't care." Or more correctly, I certainly didn't feel like talking about any of _that_ right now. Too tired. Too shaky. I'd forget about it eventually anyway.

"Right." Jack smiled, his gold teeth glinting in the afternoon sun.

It was infectious. I gave a small grin back, and we went down to the galley.

Nothing was ever spoken between us, but at that point our interactions changed. Jack wasn't so bullheaded; I wasn't so bullheaded. We didn't fight (much), and our arguments changed from snarling cat fights to sarcastic comments thrown back and forth. It wasn't perfect, but what friendship is? For, from that moment on, we had become friends, if ever how strangely.

Odd what life and death situations can do to a relationship.


	11. The Tortuga Chronicles: Witches and Such

AN: Hello again! Sorry for the enormous delay...but a little thing called college admissions got in the way, along with finishing up my first story. Of course, that really is no excuse for abandoning you so suddenly; but nevertheless I have returned with a new chapter. Progress will be the same as before; I have another story now, and will be working steadily on that. Hopefully it won't take as long as my first...but whatever the case, I am writing again!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

For the rest of the trip, the relationship the four of us held was cemented forever; maybe not best buds, but we were all companions now. It was something like a group of hikers who have just gone on a long, two week hike (think Philmont, for those of you who have experienced that). They may not suddenly be best friends, but the bond created by surviving together in the wilderness stays with every member in that group forever. There is not logical explanation for this, and it may weaken with time, but it is always there.

That's the way it was for us. Kinda. At least, that's what I liked to envision.

Consequently, instead of Meg and I generally going off on our own to do whatever, it was now all four of us doing whatever. Just because we did.

This included chores on deck. Jack usually was at the helm, me moping, Meg painting the rest of the trimmings (Jack apparently has a strange fetish for order on a ship. This includes making sure all colors match appropriately), and Will mending ropes or fixing the rigging.

It was one of these times when I could feel my stomach growling like a lion. Looking down, I rubbed it, only to noticed I needed to tighten my strings on my shorts. "Good gravy, I'm practically starving! Look at this!" I pulled out the strings for effect. In reality, I didn't need to tighten them very much, but it had caught the attention of both Meg and Jack.

"You're getting stronger," was all Jack grunted at me, motioning to my arms. "More muscle, less baby fat."

I could not see the relevance in this (not to mention I was in _track_. Nobody in that sport has baby fat), and neither did Meg, who cried out, "Ugg, me too! It's our diet of salted pork and hard tack! Absolute malnourishment."

"Maggots too," I reminded her. We both gagged in unison.

"Stop your complaining," growled Jack. "All sailors get roughly the same type of diet."

"One that sucks," I snorted, stabbing the beaten mop into the deck with more energy than it deserved. "Was that all you bought at that Dutch settlement? Salted pork and hard tack?"

"_No_, seamen do eat more than that; I bought flour, ginger, some weird oriental spice I've never encountered, but smelled good, sugar--"

"_Sugar_?" gasped Meg and I together. Our eyes were wide and hungry. Jack made a face of his own, one of fear and realization that is usually reserved for horror flicks.

"No!" he yelled after us, for we were already headed toward below deck, ready to rip apart the barrels in search for this craved item. After days of salt, meat (of which I am not a huge fan; no, I'm not vegetarian, I just don't eat a lot of meat. Usually), and crumbly dry stuff that only made you thirsty, we wanted nothing more than some type of comforting taste of _something else_.

He caught up to us just in time, grabbing both collars and dragging us back.

"But, Ja-ack! Nothing we've had the entire trip has been sweet! All salty! All…disgusting." I hate salt. Really.

"The more that comes out of your mouth, the more I wonder why I even thought to bring you along," he grumbled, but both Meg and I could tell that he was just fooling around. All in good humor of course. Well…most…partially…okay, so most of the time, Jack meant exactly what he said, especially when yelling at us. I don't think this was one of those times, though.

Hopefully. Not that we wanted to be here, but we did want to be...wanted. At least not despised.

Will, who had been working studiously (the only one working, really), came over to us, if only to laugh at our pain. While he was a friendly guy, I did find that he could have a mean streak as well, generally to make himself laugh. He liked to laugh a lot.

"Let us go!" huffed Meg. She ground her heel on his boot, and seeing our chance, I elbowed him in the chest. Not expecting the team attack, Jack promptly released us and we dashed down to the bowels of the ship, tearing through sacks until we finally came across the sugar.

"Halleluiah!" we exclaimed, and immediately snatched it up and began the studious task of ripping the burlap.

"Knife, we need a knife," ordered Meg.

"Backpack," I answered, and ran up the stairs to our cabins, Meg following behind, dragging the twenty pound sack behind her.

I was greeted by a horrible sight. Jack and Will both stood there, each holding a different backpack. Now, one of the reasons neither knew much about our real, and very unbelievable, lives was because we had guarded the backpacks viciously, allowing neither so much as a glimpse of the interior (As far was either was concerned, we were from 'America.' That's as far as the explanation ever got; if either tried to pry further, I would promptly remind them that they, most Jack, had gotten us into this mess and therefore deserved no explanation in the first place. Will generally walked away with a frown, and Jack simply found the whole concept of past secrets amusing.) As for myself, I also guarded my backpack because it was the last connection, aside from Meg, I had of my world. Not to mention it now housed the keys to Hidalgo.

Something was going on, obviously a dual effort. I glowered at both of them as Meg stumbled into the room with the sugar sack. "What's going on?" she asked.

"A ship follows a strict code of rules," began Jack, and I could tell right away it was designed to be a long homily. "The rules keep the ship in order, which in turn, allows the ship to avoid danger and injury."

Meg's eyes grew wide. "Sugar has nothing to do with injury. We are _starving_. _STARVING_."

He didn't so much as miss a beat. "When the rules are broken in any way, punishment must be dolled out to prevent any occurrence from happening again, therefore keeping the safety in tact."

"There are only four of us," Meg continued to argue. "And I don't think Will is going to do anything that would upset you, so--"

"So now we will be giving you your punishment!" Jack finished, raising his voice slightly to drown out Meg. Then he smiled. Jack had a mean streak too; but his I was more than aware of.

I frowned. Whenever Jack smiled (while he was sober; which I was pretty sure he was right now…), something _not _in our favor would usually occur. He smiled wider, and my frown deepened. "What exactly is our punishment?" I queried.

Jack held up Meg's backpack, and Will, looking more than a little confused, held up mine a moment later. "We get these."

"THAT ISN'T A PUNISHMENT!" shrieked Meg, running for her bag. "You're just trying to…to think of ways to bully us! You knew we didn't want you looking in those! _Give that back_!"

"There is no way on this earth you are looking in there!" I added, scrambling after Will, who had exited the room with a speed I didn't know anyone person could have carrying my backpack. I followed him up the stairs and nearly caught him, except Jack had caught up with _me_ and stopped my advances with a quick yank of my collar. "Oh no you don't, Evalyn."

"We didn't even get to _eat_ the sugar!" cried out Meg, still running up the steps. "Give me back my backpack!"

Jack ran past me, after Will, and within seconds they were both behind his cabin door, Meg and I locked out. "You…you…_miscreants_!" I yelled through the cracks, pounding at the wood.

Meg was not wasting her time with fancy words, instead scratching at the door ferociously. "Let us in you bullies! You no good _pirates_!"

"You're behaving like a couple of five year olds," I accused, trying to see if I could peek through the lock. "Or…street urchins!"

"I thought you were better than this, Will," continued Meg, leaning down next to me. "Jack I would expect this from, but not you! _You _were the nice one! The very-older brother type who spoils his younger siblings! Jack was the annoying boy across the street, and--"

A terrified yelp was heard from within, probably Jack. Meg and I pressed ourselves against the door, trying to push it open.

"Witchcraft! Devil's play!" cried Jack. A gun shot was heard.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" we shrieked together, hammering the door with renewed strength.

"I swear, if that was my cell phone you just blew to pieces," threatened Meg, "I'm going to blow holes through _you_!"

The door swung open, and we came tumbling to the floor, my head ricocheting off of the wooden ground. I opened my eyes to see a pistol pointed right between my eyes. I felt a very strong urge to scream, but as when I was hovering twenty feet above deck, my throat was simply too frightened to work properly.

Behind the pistol stood Jack, his face white with terror, much like when I had nearly tipped the ship. But instead of an angry frightened, this was a scared-out-of-his-wits frightened. What was going on?

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you now, witch."

I gaped up in shock, not able to form a coherent answer in my mouth. Thankfully, Meg did it for me (she was also not being threatened by a dangerous weapon).

"Because we aren't witches?" she snarled. "What in the world gave you that idea?"

Jack pointed accusingly at a smoking pile of metal and wires, still training the pistol at my face.

"YOU SHOT MY CELL PHONE!" screeched Meg.

In one swift motion, she was climbing up Jack's back till her legs were firmly wrapped around his torso, leaving her right arm free to repeatedly punch him in the head and shoulders. Which she did.

It was almost comical, watching Jack lumber around, knocking into the desk, the bed, the bookshelves, always attempting to force Meg off, but not quite able to. It was comical…until the pistol went off again, and the bullet came hazardously close to my head.

Will leaped over from his corner, where it seemed he had been hiding, and dragged Meg away before Jack could cause any damage to her.

"Devils! Demons!" Jack yelled, leaping around the room like a ballerina. It seemed like he was trying to avoid something (probably us), but then he kept coming up close, pointing the gun between us both, as if he couldn't make up his mind which one to shoot first.

"Calm down, Jack," I said, rising slowly. The pistol was under my chin in an instant, and my face paled.

"Don't make another move," he ordered, crossing himself. Apparently he was Catholic.

I gulped. "Why do you think we are witches?"

"That _thing _on the floor. And the other things in the bags. They're the devil's tools," he finished, coming up close to my face and jabbing the pistol hard into my chest.

I glanced over at Meg, her expression matching my own; shocked, confused, and more than baffled. What had gotten into Jack? When in the world had he become so superstitious?

It was at that moment I probably said the stupidest comment in existence (which is truly something, because I have made some _very_ stupid comments). "Well, I don't see what problem you have with the devil. Haven't you kind of resigned yourself to hell, since you're a known pirate and all that?"

I could hear Will moan, and Meg's eyes widened.

Jack's face changed form white to red to purple in seconds. "_Exactly _what I would expect an advocate of the devil to say. Trying to drag me down to hell already!" He cocked his gun and I crouched over, shielding my head. I really wanted to say 'I didn't mean it!', but had a distinct feeling that it wouldn't go over well.

"Don't shoot her!" begged Meg, coming over to shield me as well.

"Since when were you religious?" I screeched at him from under my cowering arms.

"Jack, lets be reasonable--" began Will, trying to pull him away.

Jack pushed him away roughly.

"--at least let them explain," finished poor Will.

I felt a huge amount of kindness flowing toward him. I probably could have kissed him, but had a distinct feeling Elizabeth would be upset if she knew…even if she didn't know me. Anyway, I didn't like him like _that_…

The pistol was still invading my personal area, but the owner seemed more or less subdued. "Very well, let's hear a decent explanation."

I cocked my eyebrow.

Meg looked equally confused, but voiced her answer in, "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Jack shrugged, but still pointed the weapon in our direction. "I'll feel more justified when I throw you overboard if I have an explanation that is _obviously _a lie."

Will raised his hands to his heads and stared at the ceiling, as if praying for a higher being to come down and intervene between his bickering companions. I was praying too, but for my life. Utter and complete fear had overtaken me. This man was mad. Crazy. No one was _this _irrational.

It was at this moment that I also happened to realize the absurdity of the situation. Here we were: girls from the 21st century, trapped in a different dimension that was a movie we once saw, conversing with characters that, according to modern reasoning, shouldn't actually exist, and we were now going to lose our lives due to a misunderstanding of witchcraft which we in the 21st century had completely demolished. All because of a dratted cell phone that was really suppose to be useful. Now it was costing us our lives.

So, despite my total terror, I snorted. I snorted mainly because I found the situation illogical; and probably because I also happened to be having some nervous breakdown (and who wouldn't in this condition?).

One would hope that such a snort would break the tension. And in movies it does.

Except this particular movie didn't seem to be following the normal rules. As it turned out, my snort made the situation worse: Jack glared at me, bring the pistol under my chin.

"You think I wouldn't do that?" he threatened softly. "Throw you overboard? Well, I would. I've been cheated and mutinied and hunted after long enough that I'm not about to have some _witch _ruin my life all over again. And I can assure you that practically nothing is going to change my mind about that."

His eyes were dark and cold, his mouth set into a grimace and a scowl. This was worse than the Jack I had to previously deal with. This was a murderous Jack. Jack the pirate. The _real_ pirate.

Yes. Pirates were not friendly, a fact I had conveniently forgotten. Pirates would slit your throat in bed, tie you up and throw you to the sharks, strip you of all worldly possessions and pride then shoot you in the town square. Pirates were criminals, and just because this one happened to be 400 years old and a dimension away did not change that fact. The movie had portrayed Jack as a troubled and confused man who was really good inside. I highly doubted that there was anything to him but this side, in front of me now, that existed deep down. Jack was a wonderful actor. Superb. Astounding. It was not beyond him to say anything he pleased to get anything he wanted. Or shoot anything to get anything he wanted.

My initial reaction to these thoughts was horror. He was going to kill us. That was fact.

But then came an overwhelming sense of fury. It engulfed me, took control of my senses. Between Meg and myself, I was the quiet one. Meg did the screaming for me, and most emotional issues, for that matter. I was the one who stood there and watched. She talked.

Unless I got really angry. Then I scream and snarl and glare daggers until I get my way; something every one of my siblings can attest to. Actually, that's a small lie. When I get _really_ angry I cry. When I'm frustrated and scared, or just extremely frustrated, _then _I scream and snarl and glare daggers until I get my way. It is generally mistaken for anger.

This was one of those moments.

"You cowardly fool!" I hissed, clenching my fists, gritting my teeth. I continued, my voice rising louder and louder until it practically echoed in the cabin. "_You_ were the one who dragged us onto this ship! _You _were the one that _insisted_ that we come for fear of your own safety! You have managed to trap us on this piece of…of…_torture _and get us wrapped into an event that does not concern us in the _least_!" I pushed the pistol away and marched up to his surprised and baffled expression. "_You_ are at fault for this. _Don't you dare_ try to threaten us. You…beastly reprobate! _Selfish cad_!"

The cabin was silent as the grave. Meg was wide eyed, though certainly pleased with my outburst; Will's mouth was hanging slightly open, and his face copied that of a person of whom a great mystery has been solved, and they just understood the reality of it (I don't know what the mystery could possibly be); Jack, though still holding the pistol tightly, was blinking rapidly, blinking away my voice, my accusations. He had seen me get angry. He _hadn't_ heard me yell. Not like this.

I probably could have been in the opera, if I had been capable of holding a tune for long periods of time. Which I'm not. And I don't want to stand there holding a spear, yelling my lungs out…nevermind.

"Since you clearly feel strongly about the issue," coughed Will, intermitting between Jack and myself, "I would like to hear an explanation, at least for myself. Seeing as I certainly cannot fathom this…circumstance."

Meg cocked her head at Will. "And why aren't you threatening us with pistols? Not that I'm complaining…"

Will glanced at Jack behind him. "When I was ten, our town had a…fettish with witches. They kept accusing people and burning, or hanging, them; we lost about seven people, until the pastor was accused. That ended everything then and there. Apparently the accuser, a young girl of about fifteen, had been insulted by every person we killed. It was her way of getting revenge. But she overestimated her power." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Every since then, well, I've taken those suspicions with a grain of salt. Seemed pointless. And extremely inaccurate."

Hmm…interesting coincedence of stories between that and _The Crucible_…

Anyway.

Back to the story.

"I'm glad to see that at least _you_ have a sense of sanity about you," exclaimed Meg, looking at Will, then pointedly at Jack.

The pirate sneered. "I'm still waiting for that explanation."

"Which you have already decided not to believe," I snapped back. "But for Will's sake, I think we will tell it."

Meg began. I don't really do stories.

"We were both born in the year 1991."

What a way to make everything simplified.

Jack and Will looked at us, looked at each other, looked at us again, and then turned various shades of white, red, and green as realization set in. "_1991?_" choked Will.

"It gets better," interrupted Meg, placing herself on top of the desk. "You see, we have a certain entertainment called movies. It's like…a play on stage, except like a picture."

"A moving picture," I clarified. "Such as...a portriat. Imagine the man, or woman, moving around and talking. Like that."

"Anyway, so we have that moving picture, and it's on a screen. And we watch it," continued Meg. "And there's this movie called _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_."

At the mention of his ship, Jack seemed to turn particularly nasty, curling his lip defensively. I quickly picked up where Meg had left off. "But wait, you forgot something. Remember the string theory? Well, we have lots of scientists where we live, and they have come up with an idea where there are multiple universes. You both know what the universe is, right?"

"Prior to your particular belief of me being a street urchin," said Jack, "I am in fact reasonably educated."

"Same," said Will.

"Just making sure," I coughed. "So there are multiple universes. One of those universes is imagination, in their theory. And since any movie that is created would be a product of imagination, then any movie then becomes real. We are from…that other universe. Not yours. Does that make sense?"

They both stared for a time before nodding.

A reaction. At least there was a reaction. So I continued.

"And in that…other universe, we have increased technology and science and…education in general. Hence the 'devil's craft' you shot into oblivion. Umm…"

"So about how we got here," Meg cut in. "We were sitting in a car--"

"Which is a form of transportation," I explained.

"--and lighting struck it."

"Why aren't you dead?" Jack inquired.

"Because the car protected us," Meg snapped back, annoyed at being interrupted again. "Anyway, as far as we can guess, it wasn't really lightening, but a huge bolt of energy."

I stared at Meg. "Please tell me you did not just say that. Lightening _is_ energy."

After huffing and rolling her eyes, Meg continued. "So, we were both knocked out. When we came to, a green forest surrounded us. That was the first clue we were not at home. We started walking around and came to Port Royal. Then we met you two. The end."

The four of us stared at each other until Will coughed lightly. "Well, from what _I_ understood, you two…don't belong here."

"That...about sums it up." I looked at Meg carefully and smiled. That hadn't been _too _bad.


	12. The Tortuga Chronicles: Hair and Hygiene

AN: Looky here! I've updated! Sorry for taking so long and all that, but I've been working on _Given_ and you know...school. It doesn't help that it's the last semester before I graduate...anyways, so here you all are! This chapter is just kind of for fun...and the last of the Tortuga Chronicles (I started getting tired of writing them). And I still love reviews...hint, hint, wink, wink...

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Jack took another few hours to be completely comfortable with the idea that maybe, just maybe, we weren't witches, and in fact were victims to circumstance. I think the thing that helped was when I mentioned that if he could believe in walking, talking skeletons that can never die, all because of a bunch of gold, than surely he could believe in what we were telling him. Whether he entirely understood our explanation, I'm not exactly sure, but eventually he accepted it and things were…back to normal. Kinda.

At least Will didn't give us strange stares whenever we walked by.

Whatever the case, Jack forgot about our odd origin when he realized it was time to mop the deck again (I had…accidently-on-purpose forgotten that the deck needed to be mopped everyday, and had been depending on Jack being completely distracted with everything _else_ to not bug me about it).

"I want it spotless," he ordered grumpily, curling up his nose as he scanned the area.

Meg and I didn't bother hiding our glares; the deck was nasty. Who would have thought salt water could do so much damage. And after being previously threatened with a gun, I was no longer particularly inclined to follow Jack's orders. However, it was that same pistol that made me decide it would be in my best interests to listen.

"I hate mopping," I stated, splashing the rags into the soapy water and ringing them out. A frustrated grunt next to me showed that Meg agreed whole-heartedly.

As I did this, I made the mistake of looking at my hands. They weren't brown anymore. As opposed to the rest of my body, which was coated in…something. I wanted to gag, but then made an even bigger mistake. I looked at my hair.

"_Uhhaaggg_!" I retched. "My _hair_!"

For anyone who might have forgotten, I like to have my hair clean. And neat. And most certainly not covered in crap. The past week or so had been rather life-changing, and consequently, I had not been paying any particular attentions to my hygiene. But now, when everything was becoming habit, I was back to where I was before--worrying about my hair.

And it was disgusting.

I nearly dunked my head into the bucket we were using, but then remembered _what _was in that water. In the meantime, Meg had looked at her _hair_. We were both sitting there gagging when Will came over.

"What's going on?" he asked, suddenly very wary.

"My hair!" I shrieked.

"My face!" moaned Meg.

"My body!" we whined in unison.

Will stood there silently, if not a little vacantly.

"Don't you understand?" Meg continued. "We haven't bathed in over a week. I've never felt so disgusting in my life. I haven't even brushed my teeth!" She covered her mouth in horror.

I covered mine too, thinking of how bad my breath must smell.

"You're on a ship," answered Will after a pause. "Everyone gets like this."

"Surely you all…wash yourselves. Right? Even a little?"

Will shook his head.

I wanted to shriek again. But, because I do have some sense of self-control, I didn't. What I did do (with Meg by my side) was stalk up to Jack, who was at the helm.

Our interactions (from the past two days) now were usually pretty strange--not awkward, _strange_. It started with him staring at us coldly, turning his head and muttering to himself, then looking back with some type of plastered expression (not always a smile). Though Jack acted like he was over the "revelation of our origins," his body language was telling me a totally different story. Whatever. He can go be weird by himself, for all I care.

"Where are the large basins? We need two," I said.

The frown that showed up next was not fake. "What do you want two basins for?"

"Baths."

The smirk that came to Jack's face wasn't fake either. "You can't take a bath out here. We need water to drink."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, we're only two days or so from Tortuga; Will told us. And I don't see you hardly drinking any water, just rum. We'll take your share of the water and use it to make ourselves decent."

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes, but gave us another one of his "I-can't-believe-they're-not-from-this-world" stares. "Neither of you need baths."

Meg narrowed her eyes. "Our hair is greasy, our skin is probably breaking out like nothing else, and we're covered in crap. _We are going to take a bath_."

I had the distinct impression that Jack had not drank rum for quite some time now, because he was losing his temper faster than normal--normal meaning when he was drunk. "The only way you two are getting any type of bath is throwing yourselves over the railing or walking a plank; feel free to do either, but the ship won't sit around and weigh anchor. We are going to continue sailing. Now go back to your mopping before I throw you overboard personally."

Both of us stomped off with grumpy faces. But our luck was going to change…sort of. Depends on your definition of luck.

* * *

The next day, there was no wind whatsoever.

At all. And it stayed like that throughout the morning. By afternoon…it hadn't changed. We were stuck under a burning sun sweating like pigs.

"I need a swimming pool," gasped Meg, red faced and stretched out like an eagle under what little shade we had, her brown hair like a mat underneath her.

I wasn't faring any better. "We're sitting in the largest swimming pool on this Earth, and Jack won't let us go in," I moaned. I was sure that if we had gotten Will on our side, we would have won the argument, but Will saw no reason for bathing either. Stupid men. Stupid cultural time differences. Stupid lightening bolt that brought us here.

Meg suddenly sat up. "No, Jack just said that the ship would keep sailing if we jumped in. The ship isn't moving. We could technically go swimming."

The heat didn't seem so bad anymore. "You're right! What are we waiting for?" I crowed, jumping up with energy I didn't know I had. It didn't matter that sweat was dripping in my eyes--it was going to be gone very shortly.

Within ten minutes, we had scavenged the area for some soap-like thing, which we found, and spare clothes to change into. The only problem was that these particular spare clothes were meant for large, navy men, which we were not. But anything was going to be better than our smelly, vile track outfits that we had been wearing for almost three weeks solid. _Disgusting_. As soon as I got somewhere that fire was allowed (Jack didn't trust us with flames on a wooden vessel…can't quite understand why. I mean, I'm not a Boy Scout or anything, but even I know how to deal with fire…), I was going to burn these sorry scraps of cotton. Or polyester. Or whatever the heck my clothes are made out of.

Anyways, we were ready to embark on Operation Sparkle, as in sparkling clean. The stage was perfect: clear day, NO WIND, and even better, no Jack. Will wasn't there either, but we wouldn't have minded that.

Actually, I might have minded that just a little. I mean, I wasn't about to jump into the ocean with my clothes on--don't worry, I was keeping my underwear and bra--but I've never worn a bikini before. I have enough problems wearing suggestive dresses and the like; pretty much anything that shows that I have a body. Not that I wear baggy clothes or anything like that…oh, heck, you know what I mean. Just suffice it to say that I was glad no guys were watching us.

At first, we were just going to cannon ball into the waves, but then we remembered something that Jack had said about walking the plank…

"Okay, I think it's stable now," I huffed. "Ready to go?"

"I was born ready," Meg quoted (at least I think it's a quote…).

I smiled mischievously. "Argg, matey; are you ready to walk the plank?"

Meg cocked an eye brow. "I don't think pirates made their 'mates' walk the plank. Wasn't usually the damsel in distress?"

I stuck out my tongue. "Fine. Argg, ye troublesome wench, prepare to meet your doom." I stabbed at her with my air-sword.

"Oh, whatever shall I do?" she swooned, clutching at her heart.

"Off with yeh!" I growled, inching closer to her. We were both teetering on the plank by this point.

"Not without a fight, I don't!" Meg squealed, and with a delighted laugh, she grabbed my shoulder and tried to push me off the plank; instead, she lost her balance too, and we both went splashing into the water.

We emerged howling with laughter and spent about three minutes fooling around and splashing ourselves. Meg had been smart enough to throw a large plank in earlier that we could grab onto, which was where we put the "soap." Ten minutes later, our hair was washed, our body was squeaky clean, and I was feeling sufficiently refreshed.

"Ah, this is the life," I sighed, floating on my back contently. "No homework, no classes, no track practice. I could get used to this."

Meg joined me by splashing water all over my face and swimming away with a cackle. My initial reaction was to splash her back…but then I saw _it_.

I had always thought _Jaws _was a hilarious movie: huge shark eating everything in its path. I mean, what animal does that? And shark attacks…psh, I didn't need to worry. I live in the middle of this desert area where no shark was going to get me.

That wasn't what I was thinking when I saw that fin in the distance…and coming toward us.

"SHARK!" I screeched, and in my frenzy to get to the ship, I flipped Meg over.

"WHAT?" she screeched back. "SHARK?"

To say the least, it wasn't long before we were both at the hull of the ship; it was then that we realized out mistake.

We didn't have anyway of getting back _up _the ship.

We looked at each other, looked back at the shark fin, and up the side of the large wooden thing in front of us. Then we screamed bloody murder.

I know blood attracts sharks, but I am now convinced that so does loud noises, because by the time Will peeked his head over the edge of the railing, there must have been three sharks circling around us. They weren't terribly close…yet.

"What are you guys doing down there?" he asked. I loathed the calmness in which he spoke.

"Throw us down a rope!" shrieked Meg, pounding the hull frantically. "We have to get out of here!"

By this time, Jack had wandered over to see what all the fuss was about. "Swimming after all, I see. Clean?"

"Don't just stand there!" I ordered, the pitch of my voice rising steadily. "We're surrounded by sharks!"

Jack frowned and looked at the three fins coming in for their prey. "Looks like dolphins to me."

"What do you mean dolphins?" I screamed. "I know what dolphins act like; and they don't swim like their going to eat you! These are sharks!"

"Eh, let them soak a while, Will. Won't hurt them," grunted Jack.

"JACK SPARROW!"

The outburst was unison, and right after, Meg screamed again, but with good reason. The plank we had been using earlier had floated off without our guidance--it so happened that at that moment, one of the sharks tried to take a chunk out of it.

Naturally, I shrieked too.

But it didn't seem to phase Jack in the least. "Good thing you guys weren't on that."

By this time, all the sharks had realized the plank was a bad decoy that certainly wasn't edible. They were sniffing for us--I could tell. Grabbing the hull in front of me, I attempted to hoist myself up like a rock climber, but there weren't any real grooves to grasp, and I fell into the water again in seconds with a resounding splash.

The sharks were circling again, and that circle was getting steadily closer.

"_Throw us down a rope_!" Meg yelled, hitting the hull forcefully.

"Hm, what do you think, Will?" asked Jack. "I have an idea; we'll play that what's-it-called game those two were playing…rock-paper-scissors, and if you win we'll haul them back up. If I win, we leave them to the sharks."

I wish I had never taught them that game.

Will, bless his heart, looked disconcerted at the thought. "Jack, those sharks do look pretty intent."

"Then why destroy their fun?" finished Jack with a hearty smile. "Think of all the trouble we'd be throwing away!"

"You're the frickin idiot that brought us here in the first place!" I screeched, pounding the ship again. "Now don't you stand up there any longer and argue about this! Bring us back up!"

Well, to make a long story short, they did stand there for another ten minutes "arguing" about whether it was smart to bother letting us back on the ship, during which time Meg and I were flippin' out about what the sharks were up to. It probably would have gone on for another ten minutes if one of the sharks hadn't brushed up against Meg's leg, sending both of us into fits of howls and screams (okay, who _wouldn't_?)

Anyways, Jack finally decided maybe we were in a little danger, and threw us a rope that Meg shimmed up in an instant; but because I have no upper-body strength, Jack and Will had to pull me up the whole way, but not before watching me struggle above the water, avoiding the fins of the sharks that had realized that there had been something rather tasty in the water only a few moments ago.

"I wasn't really going to let you get eaten," said Jack when I flopped up onto the deck. He was wearing his signature grin that said 'malicious.'

You know what I have to say to _that_?

Liar, liar, pants on fire. And I really hope he does catch on fire one of these days.


	13. Tortuga: Finally

AN: So, just as an interesting tid bit, you will shortly be meeting a character named Ashley. She came from nowhere...literally appearing right as I was writing that scene. In case you all were wondering, I have no outline for this story (I usually always have something). I don't know what is coming next, so whatever you see on the page is pretty much what I'm thinking at the time--so sorry if it is a little "stream of consciousness." Anyways, I'm thinking Ashley is going to develop into a pretty major character somehow...still don't know how yet. Well see when we get along in the plot line.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

The last two days to Tortuga were uneventful compared to the rest of the trip. Besides being bored, Meg and I were happy to be clean and in new clothes (I have yet to burn my track outfit...still waiting for the "all systems go" on using fire...). Of course, we made sure to glare at Jack and be more than kind to Will, who had taken our side, in the end, of bring us out of the water. I am convinced that Jack is actually trying to "dispose" of us. Meg says "kill" is too violent a word in this situation.

Whatever. Jack is a violent individual. It fits.

Anyways, the last day, our boredom was reaching the climax, to the point where I was trying to think of something to pass the time (like check out the cannons or something...I've always wanted to know how those work...), when Jack announced that Tortuga was in sight.

FINALLY...

But of course, because this Jack, he had to take his sweet time in getting into port; I have no idea what he was doing, but it didn't involve moving the ship at a fast speed. Sometime during the night (I don't know when…we lost track of time when Jack so inconveniently shot Meg's phone…) we docked in Tortuga.

Now, I have never been to Vegas, and I was kinda thinking that's what it would be like; you know, lots of lights and sound and drunks running around, but overall a place with some excitement (even if it's not…legal excitement).

Umm…I was wrong.

"Tortuga," breathed Jack, smiling grandly at Will. He seemed to be back at the stage where we were being ignored or considered parasites that wouldn't leave. "More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga , savvy? What do you think?"

Will sniffed and grimaced. "It'll linger."

What an understatement--this place was an overgrown pigsty. _Everybody _here was living like pigs! Wet, muddy, completely oblivious to what is happening around them…actually, I think pigs are smarter than these…umm…zombies? I couldn't think of a suitable adjective. At least pigs are aware of what is going on in the world, to an extent. I doubted half these people knew it was even night time.

Jack didn't seem to notice Will's reaction, and he certainly wasn't watching Meg's face, or mine for that matter, both of which were distorted into disgusted frowns. "I'll tell you mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted."

"Only because he'd be in a coma," muttered Meg. "No one can feel unwanted there. Oh, gross!" She turned her head away from me, and I pursed my lips and did _not _look behind myself; there are some things better left unknown.

"Jack," asked Will quickly, glancing in our direction, "is this a safe place for them to come to? I really think we should have left them on the ship." He was of course referring to us (bless him again for being so thoughtful...why couldn't Jack be like that?).

"You know what? We will voluntarily walk back to the ship," I said, stopping in my tracks. "This place is horrific. The only reason it's going to linger is because it's a stain that can't be wiped off the face of the Earth. A nasty, rotting stain."

Jack glared at me briefly before answering, "I don't know what you're worried about. It's not like either of you looks like a girl."

Meg and I exchanged offended glances, but then looked down at our clothes. Okay, so maybe Jack had a point. The pants and shirts we had found on the ship were rather…baggy, and the shoes too big, so that we both looked a bit like overgrown children. But it's not like we didn't look like girls…any sober man could have seen that. Of course, not many men here were sober…\

Will looked at us distraughtly, and turned to Jack to reason some more, but Jack's attentions were already taken.

"Scarlett!" he exclaimed, strutting up to some lady with WAY too much make-up on. I didn't even know there was make-up during this time, let alone foundation or mascara. Go figure.

Though, I certainly couldn't dislike the lady when she came up and slapped Jack soundly on the check, no matter how much blush she was wearing. Inside I started doing my happy dance--I had been personally wanting to do that for days now.

"Not sure I deserved that," he muttered, but his face lit up for a second time. "Giselle!"

A feisty looking blonde swayed over and looked accusingly at Jack. "Who was she?"

Another slap.

Mwhahahaha. We needed to find some more prostitutes. I liked this game.

"I may have deserved that," groaned Jack adjusting his jaw. "Now, about this damsel in distress of yours."

Will suddenly looked much more awake and excited at the mention of Elizabeth. Funny...I had totally forgotten the reason we were even in Tortuga...

"I have a friend who can help us. It's really just a matter of finding the man. Come along, I know a few of his haunts." The two men walked off.

Unfortunately, they did it at the _exact _moment Meg and I looked away at something else that was _totally _distracting.

Some guy seemed to have managed to get on top of a bull. A very angry bull (who knows where the bull came from). And it appeared that this bull belonged to somebody else, because chasing behind the animal were three other men, yelling angrily and waving pitchforks. The man on the bull was trying desperately to stay on, while still keeping control of the bull, and the bull was having none of that. They circled around the square a few times before charging right in our direction, sending everybody scattering.

And when the whole scene cleared up, that's when we realized that Jack had oh so conveniently left us here. How typical. How predictable.

"Okay," said Meg hesitantly. "We're okay. We just need to get back to the ship, where it's safe."

"Agreed."

We turned around in circles for a few moments before we realized we had no idea where the docks were. Darn it, I should have been paying attention...

"Umm…let's go ask somebody where they are," I suggested. "It won't hurt."

I could hear the sardonic, laughing voices cackle as I said that, but I paid them no heed.

We walked up to a group of three men who looked reasonably "with it," or at least enough to still remember the geography of the town. "Hi, we were wondering if you could point us toward the docks," said Meg.

The three men looked us over, and I suddenly had a strong desire to be in a spacesuit.

"We don't give nothing for free," one answered, smiling widely to show his row of rotting teeth.

Did NOBODY understand what the concept of hygiene was?

"Okay, that's nice," I cut in. "We'll be on our way know. Those ladies over there look like they might know. Lets ask them," I said to Meg, taking her by the arm.

However, one of the three men had taken Meg's other arm. "Stay awhile, sweethearts."

"Let-go-of-my-arm," snarled Meg, twisting it away. He kept a firm grasp.

"She said let go!" I snapped, and brought my own arm down hard, ultimately elbowing him in the forearm.

The man let go.

And all three looked like they were going to kill us.

"Why you little--" started the first man, grabbing at my hair, but we were gone before they ever finished, sprinting and weaving through the streets, ending up in front of a calmer looking tavern.

"That was a close call," gasped Meg, holding her chest. "And we really need to go running more often, or we'll never be in shape for track again."

"I don't think it matters anymore," I answered. "But I _do _think we need to find new clothes. I had to stop these things from falling to my ankles the whole way!" I was referring to my baggy pants and how they made me resemble something of a gangster. From the seventeen hundreds. Okay, never mind, scratch that.

There was a motion in the crowd, and the three men appeared not but ten feet away. Close enough to see us.

They charged, but we were already headed into the tavern.

"We need to shake them!" shrieked Meg above the din of the crowd, which for some reason was particularly thick. "How did they even find us?"

"I don't know!" I answered, pushing my way past a large, smelly man; but then an idea dawned on me. "Start fighting!"

"What?"

The men were much closer.

I didn't even take time to explain, instead grabbing Meg by her shirt and shoving her into a group of talking men.

Whether or not she understood what I was doing or was just plain mad, I didn't know, but Meg stood up and gave me a good punch in the cheek, sending me reeling into a group of yelping barmaids.

It result was instantaneous. Everybody looked our way, or if they weren't look at us, they were taking the opportunity to take someone _else _down.

In a matter of seconds we had a genuine bar fight in progress.

Bottles were flying through the air, and every once in awhile, there was a stray gunshot, but the most overpowering thing was the screaming in the air. Everybody had found someone to brawl with, and to my relief, I saw that the three men previously chasing us were significantly engaged. Grabbing Meg (who seemed ready to punch me again), I ran up the stairs at the far end of the room and rushed into the first open door I could find, closing it behind me and locking it securely.

Collapsing to the ground, we sat there breathing hard until Meg groaned, "I hate Tortuga."

I snorted. "Agreed. You have one heck of a punch though."

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't know what else to do. Does it hurt?"

"Well…you have one heck of a punch. It's throbbing, but nothing I can't get over."

"Where did I punch you?"

"Right below the eye. Maybe I'll get a shiner from it."

Meg grimaced, but I just grinned back. "I can say now that I've been in a bar fight. I bet most kids at school don't even have that under their belt."

Meg rolled her eyes and stood up. "We should probably try and get back to the ship now. We'll ask ladies this time."

"Okay, but lets not go through the bar. Ahh, crap!"

The reason for my out burst was directed at my shirt, which had managed to get a large rip somewhere around the stomach area, showing my left side quite nicely. Funny how these things seem to happen...

"Ooo, no good," winced Meg. "You need a new shirt. There's a dresser over there. Maybe something…"

I hopped over and threw open the drawers to find many different pairs of pants and shirts. "Score! I can get new pants too!"

Meg rushed over and, grinning like kids at Christmas, we put on new outfits that actually fit in a reasonable manner. And we both found decent boots. And some pretty swanky-looking hats. If we had had a mirror available, I'm sure we would have looked like two of the three musketeers. We looked…good. And who cares where the clothes came from; I mean, this is still techincally a movie, right? Characters have changes in their costume all the time, and with no plausible explanation, right?

"Now that we are newly outfitted," I said, straightening out my shirt, "we can think about making it back to the ship. You think the fight is done yet?"

Screams could still be heard.

"Umm, no, not really," answered Meg, adjusting her hat over her hair. We had decided to put up our locks so as to cause as little trouble for ourselves as possible. Being a man in this particular town seemed to have a few more advantages than being a girl.

"Window?" I suggested, hanging out to have a look down. "It's not far. We just need to make a rope. And it lets off into an empty alley way. Easy."

I should really stop saying that word.

Truth was, it really wasn't easy. First, making that blasted rope out of bed sheets was more trouble than it was worth. Then we had to haul ourselves over the edge and try and shimmy our way out of the window without falling, myself not being so successful as I landed with a thump on my butt. Me and ropes still had yet to get along.

"Ow," I winced. "I think…I've bruised my behind."

Meg patted my head kindly. "Come, lets go."

I got up and followed my friend from the alley way, almost strutting with pride. I love getting new clothes, and even though, in this case, the clothes are second hand, my desire to "show them off" hadn't faded. Anyways, they were pretty good looking items, considering where we had found them. Both shirts were white and washed and whole, with that poofy arm thing that I liked. Meg's vest was a thick, lovely black leather with silver buttons that tailored down to her waist and her navy pants that weren't too long. I had a slightly thinner brown leather vest thing that was long, over lapping my reddish breaches, and matching with my boots (I love it when things match). Have I mentioned yet how fantastic we looked?

"Okay, so about this whole docks thing…think if we wander around enough, we'll be able to find it?" I asked, scanning the crowd, or more correctly, the horizon, which was still pitch black.

"Could, but it would be easier to ask. Hey, there's a nicer looking women. Let's ask her."

The women Meg had noticed was more or less alone and out of the crowd, though it seem that, since arriving, the crowd had thinned a great deal. So maybe Tortuga didn't party all night long. And compared to most other women in the place, she did look nice…er. At least, her face wasn't masked with make-up, and she had some sense of posture. And an intelligent look on her face. And her boobs weren't falling out of her corset. Always a good sign.

We walked up to her and grinned in a friendly manner. After eyeing us suspiciously, she asked, "What'd yeh want?"

"Docks?"

She eyed us again, but with less distrust, her expression softening rapidly. "Strangers?"

Meg nodded. "We…lost our direction. Came here tonight."

She nodded back, smiling now, and now seemingly intent on holding a conversation. "Name's Ashley. Most call me Ash for short. Lived here my whole life--and hate it. Where you all from?"

"Um…"

Thankfully, we never had the chance to answer, because a HUGE guy came up beside us and grabbed Meg by the collar and lifted her up from the ground. "Step away from my girl," he snarled.

Meg's eyes widened, and I realized that it wasn't from fear, but from lack of air. "Hey! Drop my friend NOW," I ordered back, pulling at his fist.

All he did was bring that hand back and punch me in the shoulder, sending me reeling back into Ashley's arms. I think he was aiming for my head, but the man was drunk.

"Brigg! No, let them go now!" yelled Ashley, releasing me and pounding at his back. The man paid no attention, however, and was shaking Meg fiercely, her face turning redder by the second.

I regained my senses and, with blood in my eyes, jumped at the man, grabbing a hold of his neck and started strangling him. It wasn't much, but he did let go of Meg, dropping her like a rag doll to the cobblestone road. But with his attentions focused on me now, he grabbed my shoulder (the one he punched, no less), and heaved me forward and flung me to the ground. By this time, Meg was back up and sent him a good punch to the nose with a definite crack before being pushed over again. Now I was up, scrambling backwards.

"Scared, pretty boy?" cackled Brigg. I noticed Ashley was trying to help Meg up. I also noticed a pole resting on the fence by them.

Without answering, I flung myself at that pole and grabbed it, sending it straight down on Brigg's head. The effect was not what I desired (his going unconscious), but he did stand there blinking a moment--enough of a moment for me to whack him again in the stomach.

Unfortunately, I have no upper body strength, so these whacks did very little good; instead, he snatched the pole out of my hand and tossed it to the side and sent another punch at me, this time well aimed at my head. I avoid most of it, but it did make contact with the side of my cheek, toppling me over again as I over balanced.

I found myself in the ground, directly below Brigg, who was smiling nastily at my position. So I did the only thing I could think of, even if it wasn't technically fair play.

Remember how I have no upper body strength? Well, I have _plenty _of lower body strength (thank you track), and it so happened that my legs were under his legs. I kicked him in the nuts. Hard.

Brigg went stumbling backwards, his eyes crossed, when suddenly, a hard whack was heard, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

"Finally," I gasped, struggling to get up. Meg rushed over, holding the pole I had dropped. I noticed a large gash on the side of her head that was bleeding--probably from when Brigg threw her to the ground. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Fine. Just a little shocked."

"Here, take these before he wakes up," said a kneeling Ashley, who was pointing to a small pile of weapons, and also sticking her hand in his boot. "Oh, I know you have a knife in one of these…aha! Here we are!" Her hand emerged with a large Bowie-looking knife.

I stood up shakily and teetered over. "You want us to take these? Isn't that stealing?"

"No, it's good protection. Consider it a gift from me; I paid for them anyway."

I studied the pile and grabbed his sword and a large looking pistol, both of which were attached to a large leather belt, which I put around my waist. It was a nice looking sword: simple hilt, but elegant, and excellent balance. "Where did you find this sword?" I asked, swishing it around to test it.

"Actually, he stole that from a navy officer a few years back. It's a very good sword, no?" answered Ashley, who was standing at my side. "You a swordsman?"

"I know my way around, I suppose," I said. This is not a lie, by the way. I happen to have been fencing since seventh grade. Maybe I can't match Will, but I'm no dummy.

I looked over to see what Meg had picked up, a brace of pistols and a couple of bigger daggers, both of which she strapped or hid in her boots. She looked very pleased with herself.

"So who is this guy anyway?" Meg asked when she had taken out the pistols.

"Not someone I like," spat Ashley, glaring at his motionless figure. "Good friend of my brother, God rest his soul, and was supposed to take care of me as a respectable. Turned out to be a criminal, and now I'm no less than a slave for him."

I glanced over at Meg, who looked equally concerened.

And it seemed that the women noticed our expressions.

"This may be a forward question," began Ashley, sounding rather rushed, "but where is your ship headed?"

"I dunno," Meg mumbled, spinning her pistols around like a cowboy. "We gave up talking to our captain a while back. Seems to think girls are too stupid to have a decent conversation with."

Ashley seemed rather disturbed, or at least confused, until I realized what the problem was. "Oh, we aren't guys, if that's what your thinking. We're just wearing their clothing because…well…we're sailing. A little more convenient that way." We both removed our hats to show our hair.

At this news, she brightened significantly. "He let's women sail with him? Would he let me come, then?"

I was totally not ready for that type of question--and from the expression on Meg's face, neither was she. How were we supposed to answer that? _Well, you see, the only reason we're sailing with them is because we were threatened with death if we didn't because the captain was all paranoid about us running off and telling on him escaping from prison, and the only reason we were in prison with him was because we had some freakishly stalkerish guards following us around, being obsessed about how we weren't dressed decently, and if that isn't enough information, I might as well throw in the fact that we don't belong in this dimension. Does that help you?_

Yeah. Instead, we said: "Um, I guess so."

Jack was going to kill us.


	14. The Low Down on Ashley

AN: Okay, so this is kind of the filler chapter (I knew one of these was going to pop up eventually...) I don't usually enjoy writing this type of chapter just because they tend to be boring...but I suppose this one turned out okay. At least I don't loath it.

Whatever the case...I'm grateful for those of you who send reviews...thanks...

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Ashley Blake was her full name, as we found out in our attempts to find Jack and Will (we did eventually succeed…but that comes later). She was about as tall as me with mousy brown hair, heart shaped face, and bright brown eyes that could either be very shrewd or very kind.

I could tell the three of us were going to get along.

She was four years older than Meg and I, meaning she was twenty-one, but from what I could tell, she had lived the life of a fifty year old. Parents dead at seven, her older brother was left to care for them; because he was a merchant by trade, he came to Tortuga by accident and never quite left. His business was sinking fast by the time Ashley was eleven, and she was employed as a maid until just recently by a moderately nice family (very few of them existed in Tortuga). When her brother died less than a year ago at sea, Brigg had taken over her welfare under the pretense of a good friend. He was really just a creep.

Considering her situation, Ashley had grown up into a rather pleasant person; maybe a little cynical and sarcastic, but generally easy going and good-humored. This was good--I love sarcastic people.

"So tell me more about this captain of yours," she pried, her eyes lighting up slightly. I had a bad feeling that her vision of sea captains was slightly romanticized--not romantic, _romanticized_. There is a difference. Look it up if you don't know.

"He's a pain and a chauvinistic pig," I supplied. "His name is Jack Sparrow, but make sure to always call him _Captain _Sparrow, or he'll chew your head off."

"He had no sense of personal hygiene," added Meg with a sniffle.

"Or personal space, for that matter."

"He has no problem with kidnapping innocent bystanders."

"And he has an unhealthy obsession with his ship."

"Is that enough information?" ended Meg with a smile at Ashley.

Ashley was frowning, either from disappointment or disturbance, I couldn't tell. "Oh, yes, that was _plenty_ helpful." (Please note sarcasm. I'm serious when I say she's sarcastic…) After a pause, she started asking more specific questions. Once again, we weren't particularly informative...or kind.

"How old is he?"

"Older than us. Practically a grandpa."

"Probably late thirties," I added after a pause, trying to be a little useful.

"What does he look like?"

"Dirty. And drunk. But if you want specifics, he has brown eyes, tan skin, and black hair that sticks out of his head like ropes." At Ashley's confused look, Meg clarified. "He has dreadlocks."

Ashley had the decency to look disgusted; another fellow human being who cared for their hygiene. Excellent.

"Is he…bloodthirsty?"

"Well…he hasn't killed us yet," I said, "and we _have _given him plenty of reasons to. So I suppose…not really. He's pretty cool as far as that goes."

"Cool?"

"Never mind. Lets just say Jack is kinder than most pirates. He's actually rescuing the fiancé of a friend right now."

"How are you connected with that?"

"Accident," answered Meg. "Pretty much, we were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Jack thought we might go tell someone about him. We really have no connection to anybody."

"Why don't you just leave him then?"

"Where are we going to go? And whatever happens to Jack is certainly more exciting than anything else happening around us, so we stick with Jack. And we like bugging him."

"We're the annoying little sisters to him and Will," was my comment. Meg and I high-fived.

"Whose Will?"

"The friend with the fiancé. He likes us better than Jack. He's also not as easily annoyed. Did we mention how irratible Captain Sparrow is?"

Ashley nodded. "Interesting. Very interesting. Now, where are these two men?"

"That is a good question," I said. We had wandered to the squalor of central Tortuga at this point, and I began to worry for Ashley's safety (Meg and I still looked like guys for our own sakes. Smart idea, right?), but then I remembered that she was very familiar with this scene in front of her, which was pretty much total chaos. I cringed at the thought of immersing myself in that…nastiness, but Ashley was way ahead of us, already entering the crowd with the hope of spotting some guy with really bad dreadlocks.

"He's supposed to be in a tavern, right?" I whispered to Meg. "We've been wandering around long enough for him to have found Gibbs. Right? I mean, I think I'm remembering the movie..."

Meg shrugged. "I would think so. Lets start some 'clubbing.'"

Clubbing. Yeah. I would never want to do any type of 'clubbing' here.

After catching up to Ashley, we started peeking into the various taverns. The first three were either empty or filled with total 'losers' as far as the pirating world would have been concerned, so we quickly decided that Jack wouldn't be caught dead in any of those places. That's when we spotted it. The Tavern.

I'm sure it had a name, but it seemed that the sign had been ripped down at one point, and I wasn't surprised. The place was rowdy, and dangerous. The place that I'm sure pro-wrestlers would think twice about going into.

"That's probably where he is," mumbled Meg, looking at the building with great distaste.

I sighed and nodded.

Ashley didn't look phased in the slightest. "Are we going in or what?"

We approached the door after avoiding multiple collisions with various individuals whom I had never seen before, nor did I want to see again, and entered.

Jack wasn't hard to spot: and contrary to what I think is popular belief, his table wasn't swarming with ladies. It was just him and Gibbs, and they seemed to be talking up a storm about nothing in particular. Poor Will was stuck by some post, standing in and amongst the less scrupulous of people.

Well, I am a pro at crashing, parties, no matter how small they may be. "Let's go introduce you to our dear friend _Captain _Jack Sparrow," I said, dragging Ashley behind me, and following after Meg, who was leading.

I wasn't sure how exactly we were going to explain to Jack that we had one more passenger along for the ride, but it turned out we didn't need to worry about it at all. In fact, he didn't even notice Ashley at first.

Actually, Will was the real reason. Went Meg stalked pass him, she grabbed his wrist and began pulling him along with us to Jack. "There is no reason you should be standing there all alone, you poor man. Don't worry, we're here to save you now."

"Where in the world have you two been? What are you wearing?" gasped Will. "I've been worried sick!"

No doubt a phrase he picked up from the two of us. Moving on.

"Why didn't you come looking for us?" I asked, a little insulted that while Meg and I were fighting for our lives (okay...not quite...whatever, we were in mortal danger with that fruitcake Brigg...). We were at Jack's table now.

"He wouldn't let me," accused Will, pointing a finger toward our dear pirate buddy.

"You didn't let Will come after us?" I snapped at Jack. "What were you thinking?"

That question didn't even need to be asked. I knew perfectly well what he had been thinking after one look at him. Jack had seen it as the perfect opportunity to get rid of us. I knew it.

So I smack him over the head, not too hard, but enough to get my message across. "You little weenie! First you _force _us to come with you, and then you try to abandon us in the worst possible place on the planet!"

"What happened to you? And your face?" interjected Will. He didn't appear as intent on abusing Jack as I did. Now, I had completely forgotten about my injuries, but now, at being reminded, I could feel how big all of them had swelled. I was covered, it seemed like, from head to toe. That fight had been more physical that I thought. But Will's mentioning my face brought on a whole new string of comments from Meg.

"Look what has happened to us! Look at our faces!" She shoved her own very close to Jack's so that he could get a good look at her cut, which was still oozing a little. "We have to defend ourselves against a maniac because Will wasn't allowed to come and save us. And I had to punch Lynn in the cheek in order to escape another group of morons that wouldn't leave us alone. We are severely injured and in pain due to you!"

"I think you are heaping blame on the wrong person. As I recall, it was the two of you who got lost," answered Jack darkly.

Gibbs sat there silently, taking in the situation. You would think a fellow like that would have something to say; but I suppose, in the long run, he really was only a 'filler' character.

Whatever, moving on.

"And I recall it being _you _who snuck off to who knows where during that whole 'bull incident' in the square! And I'm sure you saw that. Don't even talk to me Jack Sparrow!" Meg shrieked.

Jack opened his mouth, no doubt to correct Meg on his title, but then his eyes fell on Ashley. "Who is this fine lady?"

I noticed the change in tone immediately; instead of being sharp and snappy, Jack was suddenly very smooth sounding, almost like a purr. He liked Ashley…or at least the way Ashley looked.

Thankfully, she seemed less than impressed with him, a grimace already forming on her mouth. She _was _going to fit in perfectly with the two of us...the Three Amigos fighting against the evil pirate...mwhahaha...

"Ashley Blake," Meg supplied. "She's sailing with us to wherever we're going."

Jack's goofy smile was wiped away instantly. "What?"

"She's sailing with us," I repeated. "How many ways do I need to say that? We have a new passenger, we have picked up a new companion, a previously unknown individual will be--"

"Why are you sailing with us?" asked Jack. The question was directed at Ashley.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I just need to get away from here."

Despite the fact Jack was clearly 'checking her out,' he shook his head. "Sorry, luv, I have two too many problems on my ship as it is, and I can't seem to get rid of them. Adding a proper lady into the mix would not be a wise choice, no matter how...pleasent that lady might be."

At the answer Ashley's face visibly fell. "What? I promise I won't be any trouble. I'm not incompetent when it comes to sailing."

"_I _promise she won't be any trouble," I interjected.

"If _you're _saying this, then I know I need to worry," muttered Jack under his breath. "Well, Gibbs, we best be going to bed. Got an early day ahead of us tomorrow." He patted himself down, a frown forming on his face. "Don't suppose you have any spar change to pay for the drinks?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Nope."

Finally, a comment.

At this point Ashley had sat down and Meg was next to her, trying in vain to comfort her. Will was standing awkwardly behind them, clearly wanting to aid in some way for propriety's sake, but not sure of what to do. Jack, upon seeing the three of them, nestled up very close to Ashley. Creeper.

"Listen, luv, if it were any other situation or any other time, I would be glad to help you. But at the moment, nothing is…opportune enough to allow me to assist you to my full extent." His hands traveled around her waist in what could be seen as an awkward embrace, but I noticed right away what he was doing.

He had taken Ashley's purse.

"As it stands, if I happen to be in Tortuga again, I would be more than happy to help you in any way possible." Jack stood up suddenly, grinning. "Now, about paying for those drinks. I do recall having some spare coins in my clothes _somewhere_…"

He traveled off, leaving Ashley, Meg, and myself standing there as Gibbs and Will trailed after the pirate. For obvious reasons, Ashley didn't look much happier. "What am I to do?" she moaned. "I have no where to go but back to Brigg, and even if I had another way to leave, I hardly have enough money as it is--" with the comment, her hand went down to where her purse should have been, and her face screwed up into a horrified gasp. "Where's my pouch?"

"Jack took it," I said quietly, and both Ashley and Meg started; Meg looking particularly vehement. "But don't do anything yet. This might work to our advantage."

Meg looked skeptical. But Ashley--bless her heart--looked hopeful. "What was your idea?"

"Well, you see, Jack is choosing his crew tomorrow…"


	15. Crewpicking and Whatnot

AN: Hello everybody! Sorry for the long wait in updates, but I haven't been able to get the internet for awhile...meaning I obviously couldn't be updating or anything. You are all amazing for keeping so patient with me and everything. Thanks for the support and updates!

Oh, and kudos for anyone who spots a slight reference to an obsure movie...which I also don't own. Actually, if you do think you know what it is, message me, and I'll write you into one of the chapters (except for you, "Meg".....you're already in the story...). (As a hint, the reference is toward the bottom of the story).

As always, enjoy.

* * *

The next day was thankfully sunshiny and somewhat less damp…comparatively. It had been with great sadness that I discovered my hair frizzed in moist conditions, but today, it was not as frizzy, hence the reason I could tell the air just wasn't as humid. It's pitiful what my hair has been reduced to: a built in weather system.

Anyways, much earlier in the morning…wait, let's go back to last night first. After Jack had so rudely denied Ashley passage, and then proceeded to take her money (which amounted to something like five hundred dollars, mind you), he forced us to return to the ship with Will. He and Gibbs wanted to discuss "business," a.k.a., check out the chicas roaming around. Or maybe they actually did want to talk about business.

I'm pretty sure they were going after the ladies.

Back to Will. So, Meg and I (we had told Ashley to stay at that tavern as part of our plan…which I was still trying to figure out) followed him back to the ship, grumbling about one thing or another from this night.

"Hey, at least we got these awesome weapons!" Meg exclaimed showing her pistols to Will. "You're going to have to show me how to use them, though."

He chuckled at our antics and looked at my sword. "That's a beautiful blade, Lynn." After a pause, and a frown, he continued. "I don't understand why Jack wouldn't let Ashley come along. I know that this is dangerous and all, but she seemed desperate. And we are stopping at another port before actually going to the island." Will shook his head in frustration. "Maybe I'm just too much of a good-doer."

"Don't ever change!" burst out Meg and I at the same time. We looked at each other an grinned--it happened a lot.

"It's bad enough to have to deal with Jack who I really think is out to get us," I continued. "He just permeates this revengeful-depressed aura. You counter all that; if you weren't here on this…trip, I think I'd go crazy."

Meg nodded vigorously in agreement.

Will grinned sheepishly as a reply. Thankfully, he knew us well enough by now to not be afraid when we had our moments. But honestly, everything I had said was nothing but the truth: Will was the driving force behind the reason I was still sane. He was like an older brother…but nicer. More like that really cool uncle who's only a few years older than you type of thing.

Anyways, essentially he was pretty chill…which was the reason I asked this question next.

"Do you think you could help us get Ashley on the ship?"

At first a pause, then Will grinned. "Only if you have a plan."

"Vaguely. It's pretty much blackmailing Jack."

His grin widened. "Good enough. What do you need help with?"

"Well…we need to make her look more like a guy…"

* * *

Now we can come back to earlier this morning. When Will had given us some of his spare clothes, I was able to put my shaky plan into action. As we traveled back to the tavern to find Ashley and help her look more male-like (which, by this time, we were pros at. I mean, Brigg thought we were guys, right?), Will agreed to distract Jack from our absence if necessary, and also distract him when we planted Ashley in with the rest of the line of men.

We gave her three strict instructions: one, do NOT look at Jack in the eye, or raise any attention. Two, do NOT interact with any of the men in any way. Three, do NOT speak AT ALL until she heard another women speak about how Jack owed her a ship, and even then, try not to say anything until Meg and I had spoken to Jack.

She wanted to know why we thought any other women would be there, and wanting a ship, no less. We told her we had inside information and not to worry; the situation was under control.

With the whole set up thing in place and successful, we now stood alongside Will and Jack (who had grumpily agreed to let us be around) as they surveyed the crew, with Will repressing a knowing smile. Meg and I, for once, were able to keep up some wicked good poker faces the entire time.

"Feast your eyes, Captain. All of them, faithful hands before the mast. Every man worth his salt. And crazy to boot," exclaimed Gibbs heartily.

"Any man willing to listen to Jack is more than crazy," mumbled Meg. Two men standing near heard us and worried expressions showed up on their faces. Jack heard us too, and glared viciously at us.

Not a morning person.

"So _this _is your able-bodied crew?" asked Will quietly, grimacing slightly.

"Okay, I can count…ten of these men who actually have their entire body intact," I added. "That's out of, what, thirty men?" I turned to Gibbs. "Where did you _find _these guys?"

Gibbs was affronted, and narrowed his eyes. "I take whatever volunteers I get, and I'm sure every single one of these men could sail ten times better than you."

I looked suspiciously at a man with wooden polls for arms, wanting to ask how the heck he was supposed to sail, but restrained myself.

"You, sailor!" barked Jack, shoving his way into Cotton's face.

"Give the man some breathing room!" cried out Meg, stepping between them. "Do you realize how irritating you are? Yelling at him like that…the man has a name!"

Jack focused his eyes harshly on Meg. "Get back on the ship. Now."

"She really didn't mean any of that," I said, stepping between _them_. "We'll stay here and stay silent. Okay?"

Jack seemed ready to throw one of us over the side of the dock, but Gibbs had the kindness to quickly say, "His name is Cotton, sir."

The pirate turned his gaze to poor Mr. Cotton, who, I'm sure, now had a loathing hate for Jack after seeing him treat us like that. At least I would like to think so.

"Mr. Cotton . Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?" Mr. Cotton stared blankly at Jack, who started to narrow his eyes. "Mr. Cotton ! Answer man!"

"He's a mute, sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one's yet figured how…"

"Why doesn't he just do sign language?" I muttered to Meg.

"Well, sign language is actually an entirely different language, meaning the rest of the crew would have to learn it as well."

"What part of silence do either of you not understand?" snapped Jack before returning a smile to Cotton. "Mr. Cotton's…parrot. Same question."

"Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!"

"Mostly, we figure that means 'yes'," explained Gibbs.

Of course. It's so obvious. How did I miss that.

"Satisfied?" asked Jack, though the statement didn't appear to be directed to anyone in particular.

"Well, overall, I am getting a pretty good vibe from the whole crew," answered Meg with a glint in her eye. "There are a few patchy spots that might want to be reconsidered"--I glanced at the guy with no arms-- "but mostly, I would say I'm satisfied."

Jack was losing any good humor fast, though he was glaring at me like I was the one in control of the situation. Come on! I wasn't the one talking! That was Meg (not to say he didn't deserve everything she was doing to him, and frankly, I was backing her up 100%…). But regardless…I swear this man had some sort of vendetta with me. And why were we even here to begin with? Him. Not me. I wanted to go back to my truck! He was the lunatic who thought two helpless girls would go running to the guards to turn him in, even though we had much better things to do than have the guards put us back in jail for "inappropriate clothing" or whatever…

Anyways. Enough rambling.

Will (I swear, not has a more perfect man been created) pulled Jack aside before he could throw us to the sharks and started muttering to him. The few phrases I caught were along the lines of "They're just girls" and "Responsibility" and "Get a grip with yourself".

Most of the crew seemed to be watching the whole scene with way more interest than I thought they were capable of, though I did catch Ashley's eye and wink.

"And what's the benefit for us?"

At the sound of the voice, Jack sauntered over and pulled off a hat to reveal Anamaria, who promptly slapped him.

And so my evil plan begins **insert an evil laugh**. The slap was just a bonus.

You see, I already knew that Jack owed Anamaria a ship--and because of this, he allows her to come along, so she can have the _Interceptor_. Not to mention she's a women. Now, Jack took a lot of money from Ashley, and I also know that the cursed gold has a ton of good gold with it--by default, he _has _to bring Ashley along so he can pay her back; everything he took was pretty much her life's savings, and I don't doubt him capable of spending it all in one night.

Ha ha. Ha ha ha.

Will, with the most mocking look I have seen on his face, asked, "And I suppose you didn't deserve that one either."

"No, that one I deserved."

Anamaria was holding back no reservations, glaring at him vehemently. "You stole my boat!"

"Actually--" she slapped him again, and Jack backed away, waving his hands defensively-- "…borrowed! Borrowed without permission! But with every intention of bringing it back to you."

"But, obviously, you didn't," Meg said. "Or you wouldn't be in this predicament right now."

"Meg, how about you stand over here," I quickly interjected before Jack said anything, and dragging her to the side next to Gibbs.

"The girl is right," sniffed Anamaria. "I came to get it back, one way or another."

"You'll get one," smiled Jack, backing up farther when Anamaria shoved a slender finger in his face.

"I _will_."

I needed to take some sort of "intimidation lessons" from her; Jack probably would have kneeled down and licked the boardwalk if Anamaria had told him to, just to keep from her wrath.

"A better one," added Will.

"A better one!" parroted Jack. Yes, he was definitely afraid of her.

"That one." Will pointed at the _Interceptor_.

"What one? That one? Aye! That one!" Jack turned back to Anamaria. "What say you?"

She studied the ship carefully, than a fierce grin broke across her face. "Aye!"

The crew answered back with many 'ayes' as well, but Gibbs rushed over from his post by Meg shaking his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no; it's frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard, sir."

Jack snorted. "I have two already; what's one more going to do? And it would be far worse not to have her…in this particular predicament." He looked swiftly over at Meg before smiling again at Anamaria. "Are we ready to set sail?"

"Not quite," I said, grabbing his coat before he could walk away. "I'm glad to know you're willing to make bargains, though."

Jack quickly looked very worried, but as usual, tried to make it seem like he was clearly the superior one, and shrug it of. "I fail to see why we can't leave, unless you have a mad desire to stay, in which case, why don't you run off with your little friend from last night?"

"Funny you mention Ashley," I smirk, and after pulling it out of his pocket, I wave her purse in front of his face.

He averted his eyes and scratched his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you honestly think that stealing her purse wouldn't escape Ashley's attention? Or mine? You managed to take…and apparently spend…all of her life savings. _You _are a moron."

I'm sure he didn't know exactly what 'moron' meant, but he wasn't so oblivious as to think it a complement. Eyes fuming with annoyance, he asked, "And what are you planning to do about it?"

"Have you pay her back."

He put his hands on his head, clutching it. "I don't have the money _with _me right now, hence the reason I took hers. Of _course _I was planning to pay her back!"

"You disgust me," spat Anamaria. "You'll never pay her back, because you will go out of your way to never see her again; like you did to me. But I haven't let you escape." She glared him down, and I swear I heard a whimper escape Jack's lips.

"And I'm not letting him get away either," interrupted Ashley, stepping out of line and removing her disguise. "I expect to be paid back twofold. And I intend to follow you like the plague until I'm recompenced."

The whole crew turned their heads to look at her, and Jack and Gibbs gaped momentarily before both pirates finally regained their senses. "Ashley, darling, let me explain how dangerous this…venture is--" started Jack, but Anamaria stepped in.

"This is practically my ship, Jack, and I'm going to let her come. If you don't, I will force you to let her. Understand?"

"Me too!" added Meg.

"Me three!" I said, not wanting to be left out.

"And I as well," coughed Will, not quite willing to look at Jack in the eye. "I find the whole situation rather unfair, and can't quite resign myself to searching for Elizabeth unless Ashley has been treated to properly."

Ashley gave such a sappy, adoring look at Will that I nearly barfed. Had I mentioned yet to Ashley that Will was looking for his girlfriend? He totally wasn't available.

Jack, upon realizing he was outnumbered, turned to me and glared. "This is your fault."

"Mine? You were the one who stole from Ashley!"

"But you came up with this."

"Yes, because you are a cheating, lying criminal that I have been forced to travel with, and I intend to do some good on this forced journey."

"That isn't any excuse," growled Jack, staring daggers at me.

"Consider it karma," I answered. "For all you know, this could be the best thing that ever happened to you."

Okay, it wasn't until the words were out of my mouth, and Jack was looking at Ashley carefully (as in, checking-out Ashley carefully), that I realized how the statement had been taken. I did not mean it like that! However, it did seem to shut Jack up for good, so I rolled my eyes and let it slide. Whatever it took.

The rest of the day, much to my chagrin, was spent preparing to leave for the _next _morning. I suppose we did need to have enough food for the whole crew…and water and whatever, but it didn't do much good for us three girls who really weren't that much of a help. And it was a little intimidating to sit on the sidelines while Anamaria was working like a dog, and hardly showing any sweat for it. If only I could be like that…

With all the extra time on our hands, Meg, Ashley, and I needed _something _to entertain us. So we people-watched. You know…when you watch strangers and make up personalities for them and stories and what not. (For the record, we were pretty much right about all of them).

I started with the wooden-armed man. He came from Italy of a wealthy family that lost their fortune due to a gambling father--the reason he lost his arms was because of a bet his father made when he was drunk, and had no money left. With very few options of employment left open, the man turned to the sea where he made use of his wood-arms in scraping barnacles off the ship and shooing away any unwanted birds or odd little jobs that it would be a gift to have no nerves in the...appendeges.

Meg found an old guy with no hair and an eye patch. He was from Ireland and was the eldest child of a family of fourteen that lived on a small island named Roan Inish. Because the family couldn't bring in enough income to feed all the kids, they had a family vote on which three members to kick out: he and his two brothers were the ones voted off the island. They sailed for many years (two other bald guys with eye patches were his brothers) until they arrived at an island with cannibals. To see if these men would taste any good, an eyes was sampled from each--obviously, the cannibals didn't approve of them, and they were set free, where they met Jack dancing around throwing rice or whatever. Apparently now that story is true.

Ashley saw a skeleton man; that is to say, he was so thin, it looked like a feather could break him. He was from some remote inland village in Egypt and was sold as a slave by the Ottomans to some traveler guy. In Europe he escaped and joined a traveling circus that displayed him as the thinnest man on earth. Sick of that title, he went to sea to try and gain some muscle, but found out that his body was just naturally…skeleton like. He now habitually lifts barrels like weights, just to try and gain some body mass, which is what we saw him doing when we first spotted him.

Those were some of the more interesting ones; most of the crew was made up of scarred old guys who were either really buff or ready to die, except for five guys who actually looked like they might have some years left in them, especially for this one blonde guy who couldn't have been past thirty. I didn't get a good look at him though.

And that made up the crew. And, you know, Meg, Ashley, and I.

If I hadn't already seen the movies, I would have said we were doomed.


	16. A Shipload of Drama

AN: As an end-of-school gift, I will now give you this chapter...ha ha! My last day of High School EVER is tomorrow! Certainly a reason for celebration...anyway, I'm introducing a new character, who I am still deciding whether he should play a big role or not. So tell me what y'all think.

Oh, and no one responded (that I know of) to my challege of finding that movie allusion in the last chapter...I'll tell you all what that is next time, just to give you a second chance...

Anyway...updates will be...hopefull constant this summer. Depends a lot on which job I get. Whatever the case, hopefully I can call this wrapped up by the end of the summer.

And, I would like to dedicate this chapter to "Meg" again...just for her brilliant idea that I put into action.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

I like to think I'm pretty good at telling whether or not someone is good looking; I mean, years of reading _People's _magazine has given me lots of tips and practice... Like blonde is good, big lips are good, and if you have some assets in your chest and butt, that's not too bad either.

I never would have labeled Ashley as ugly, but not exactly drop dead gorgeous. Pretty, maybe on the beautiful side, but nothing spectacular. I mean, stringy brown hair? Brown eyes? Freckles? Definitely pretty, but not supermodel material.

It seemed, however, that the entire crew thought otherwise. From the moment she arrived on the ship, the men were bowing down to her. She asked for something, and everyone, including Jack, would rush to be the first to aid. She could have probably insisted that we turn this ship around to Port Royal and have the pirates turn themselves in, and they would have done it. But, bless here heart, she was totally oblivious to it all.

She had eyes only for Will.

I suppose, if I were in her situation, I would be acting in totally the same manner. Will is tall, dark, and handsome, not to mention a sense of personal hygiene. And he's nice. And sweet. And he listens. And is…almost perfect. Of course, I only saw him as a brother figure, but Ashley certainly wasn't seeing him like that (or Anamaria for that matter, but she wasn't going to throw herself into him or anything like that, not to mention she's got just a little more practical sense…). And…so maybe if I didn't already know that Will was in love with Elizabeth, I'd probably be in love with him too. So sue me: I know a gorgeous guy when I see him.

If I had been thinking properly, I would have asked Ashley to ask Jack to NOT work me and Meg like mules--he probably would have done it. Yes, now that we were on a ship again, Jack was putting us to use mopping and mending ropes and whatever else he felt like doing. He had gotten it into his head that I was going to cause a mutiny on this ship (if anyone, it would have been Ashley…the men didn't care two bits about me…), and therefore, gave me jobs that required I stay within his sight…also meaning I was in the sun most of the time. Meg he sent off with a list of chores and let her do her thing; he was totally biased, and I'm sure it has to do with "The Incident." I hardly ever saw her except at night. And he just _didn't _make Ashley work, though she tried her best to help around (but mostly with Will).

There were a few things I discovered about myself. One, I definitely do not tan. I freckle. And get very red. Thank heavens I had that hat, or my face would have been red the entire trip. Two, the sun does in fact bleach my hair. Normally, I have very dark brown coloring, but Meg noticed one day that it seemed to be getting lighter (still not sure how I feel about that). Three, I put on muscle fast. I though I was doing hard work before this…ha ha. At least I was going to have a little bit of upper body strength before we did anything dangerous.

Whatever.

Anyways, three days or so out of Tortuga, and I was sick of it. I tried my usual ploy of complaining, which didn't work very well--Jack only got more irritated and gave me more work to do (usually mopping. There is always mopping to do on a ship…another lovely detail I've learned…). So I attempted flattery, figuring that a guy with this much ego would live and breathe such things. Well, I'm not very good at flattery (mostly because I'm not particularly good at lying…unless I put my mind to it, and that just takes too much effort), and so most of the time it didn't work. Unless he was slightly drunk, in which case it worked very well.

This night was one of those nights…well, evenings. It was before dinner, about thirty minutes or so, and I was rushing down toward the galley. For whatever reason, Jack had neglected to get a proper cook, so the job rotated between five men who had some skill, including Will. I hadn't gotten wind of Meg all day, and I figured that Ashley would have a better idea where she was, since they seemed to be speaking more and more (given the fact that I was never dispensable during the day. Curse that Jack Sparrow...).

Imagine my surprise when I saw Meg and Ashley each flanking Will as he cooked a stew. I nearly just barged in (I mean, I haven't seen Meg all day), but I paused and studied the picture with more care. Ashley's expression I had seen many times the past three days: utter adoration. Her small mouth was curved in an endearing smile with a tinkling laugh coming from it when Will said something funny.

But Meg's face was smiling as well, and she was laughing just as happily.

Wait a minute…

I crept behind the door and poked my head out so I could spy without being seen. Ashley was flipping her hair and twisting it, depending on her position.

So was Meg.

Ashley reached toward Will to help with peeling some potatoes, but just so that their hands were brushing.

Meg grabbed something across from Will so that their arms touched slightly.

I retreated behind the door completely and moaned. I had known Meg long enough to recognize the tell-tale signs, and also knew that had a very good chance of ending in disaster. No, wait, it WAS going to end in disaster. The whole reason we were on this stupid journey to begin with was because we were looking for Elizabeth, aka, Will's future wife. What was Meg thinking?

I glanced at the three of them again: actually, she probably _wasn't _thinking. Well, any girl would understand. A guy, a handsome guy, gives a lot of attention (which Will had been doing since Jack was an utter buffoon), and a girl will respond accordingly. If Elizabeth hadn't been in the picture, I would be doing the exact same thing Meg was doing right now.

Dang it. What was I going to do?

"Lyn, what are you doing?"

I whipped around to see Jack striding toward me, his usual saunter in full swing. He opened his mouth to say something more, but I stopped him; his eyes questioning, Jack did as bidded, and I whispered, "Look."

Actually, I'm not exactly sure why I was even doing this with Jack (he had been treating me like crap for the past three days; maybe I was getting some weird bond with him…), but I motioned behind the door, and he looked. It was something I'd totally be doing with Meg.

But he reacted exactly as…I had not been expecting. In other words, he cooperated.

Thankfully, he was with it enough to realize what I was getting at, and his eyes got wide, and a puckish grin spread on his face. "Seems dear William has manage to collect a gathering of followers. Interesting. Don't suppose you want to join them?" His grin widened.

"Good heavens, no. But what are we going to do? Will has Elizabeth!"

"We?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you don't have something to gain if we broke up this little 'gathering.'"

For the first time ever, Jack when scarlet, and though he didn't say anything, it must be noted that he didn't _deny _anything either. "Okay, so you want to break them from Will. What do you suggest?"

"I don't have anything! I'm no good at this type of stuff!"

"You're a women! Women are always good at things of…let's say, of the heart."

"This really isn't a matter of the heart; more of practicality. But wait, you don't have a heart to begin with, so I suppose it's totally useless to try and have you solve the issue."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Working me like a pack animal, that's what! Look at this!" I showed him my reddened arm and bloodied hands. "This is ridiculous! I mean, come on!"

I wasn't sure how to express myself beyond that, but I'm sure Jack got the gist, for he sniffed and blinked apathetically. "It's not going to hurt you to do a little work."

"I'm working from sunrise to sundown…in the SUN. I hate humidity! And being hot! And being uncomfortable! Why can't I just get a list of chores like Meg and do things as I want?"

"Aside from the fact that you are the most capable of causing a mutiny"--at this I rolled my eyes; Jack obviously did not know me well enough. I would never be that charismatic-- "has it occurred to you that maybe I'm giving you the better job?"

This little statement made me frown, for I completely failed to see how it could possibly be the better job, but I didn't have time to say anything in retort. Will popped around the corner with both Meg and Ashley following close behind.

"What's going on? We heard you two shouting."

"Nothing."

We had responded in unison, which I'm sure didn't help our case. I glanced furtively at Jack, who was doing the same thing. Just like two little kids caught in trouble. Great.

Before Will could say anything more, I grabbed at Meg. "I'm done with my work. Let's talk a little before dinner."

I noticed she didn't seem quite as willing to leave with me, though she did follow with a small smile. Turning to Jack, I muttered, "I'll be speaking with you later."

He just shrugged as we walked away. Once out of earshot, I grabbed Meg and spun her around to face me. "What are you doing?"

My outburst was definitely not what she had been expecting. "What are you talking about? I've been mending some of the sails today with Ashley, and then I scrubbed down the galley."

"I mean Will."

After a minute of "psychic" conversation, Meg narrowed her eyes. "Nothing is going on with Will."

Whatever. Go ahead and be in denial. I've dealt with this before.

"Okay. So nothing is going on with Will. How come I hardly see you except for when we go to bed?"

Meg shrugged. "You're stuck with Jack all day. And who wants to be around that grump?"

A muffled grunt of indignation was heard from around the corner; without bothering to go and whop Jack over the head, I dragged Meg up to the deck and to the side where we could talk alone. "Then who are you usually with?"

"Ashley."

I waited silently.

Meg crossed her arms and looked away. "Ashley is always with Will. I can't help it if I'm there too. I mean, I want to talk to people, and Jack won't let me talk to you. The only sane people left are them."

I wanted to shout back how, if she really wanted to talk with me, she'd try harder and probably succeed, but decided against it; after all, it wasn't like I hadn't chosen a boy over her once in awhile. What girl hasn't? Geesh, we're only human…

Enough defending the female type. On with the story.

"Okay, fine. So you don't like Will in any way shape or form"--at this Meg shifted uncomfortably, but I continued-- "Just keep in mind that we are rescuing _his_ girlfriend. And you'd best remind Ashley of that as well. I think she has intentionally forgotten about it."

"Fine." We stood there for a moment before Meg suggested, "Ready for dinner?"

"Yes! Good grief, I'm starving, and Jack was working me like a freakin' slave…"

* * *

It was after dinner…and I was technically supposed to be in bed. But I had promised Jack a visit, and I wasn't about to break any promise. Not when such important issues were on the line. And no, this didn't have to do with the "Will Incident."

I was going to be discussing my working hours…in fact, my entire job. Slavery was abolished by the time I was born, and as long as I'm breathing, I intend to keep that spirit alive. Jack had not had the last word on the subject.

I had never really been in his cabin since the first week or so of our little excursion, oh, and that night Meg and I had it to ourselves after Canasta (which we were playing every night so far with many views. They had created fan groups for each side to cheer us on, though I am still very suspicious of Gibbs threatening the men if they didn't cheer for us). Anyways, I wasn't exactly prepared for the mess that nearly spilled out the door when I cracked it open.

Not bothering to knock, I stepped inside carefully and saw Jack sprawled out on his chair talking avidly to a map on the desk and waving a compass in the air like a weapon. The discussion appeared to be very heated…if the map could have talked back. I noted the empty bottle of rum on the desk as well.

Great. He was drunk, and not just the cooperative drunk, the "way-too-boozed-out-to-be-functional" drunk. I was going to get nowhere tonight.

But then I stopped and pondered my options for another moment. Jack was obviously capable of holding some type of conversation; as was proven by the argument with the map. Maybe something could be gained by this moment…and no, I am not beyond taking advantage of a drunk man. Especially Jack, who would totally deserve being outsmarted, no matter the methods.

"Captain," I called out, deciding it best to start on good terms. "Wanted to stop by for a chat. 'Sup?"

Jack spun around to look at me. "Magpies. That's the answer. Why didn't I think of that earlier?"

I sucked in my breath. Okay, so I don't have much experience with talking to drunks. This situation wasn't looking any good…if only I could get him to say something somewhat cohesive…

"About my working schedule--" I continued, but Jack interrupted without any proof of recognizing me.

"The feathers actually…quite valuable…and the teeth. I had…that there…made out of feathers and teeth…"

He was pointing at a brace of pistols, and I removed them from view, just in case he tried to show what they "did."

"Jack…" I grabbed his arm in time to prevent him from toppling over.

"You! Mop the deck! Three times! Spotless!"

Wonderful. The man orders me around even when he's drunk.

"The deck is mopped, Jack," I groaned. He swung around out of my grasp again and faced me.

"Tetrameter!" he exclaimed.

"Poetry?" I asked.

"Marco Polo!"

"Explorers?"

"Antidisestablishmentarianism!"

I paused. "You know that word?"

Even in his drunken state, Jack managed to look offended.

I was quiet for a moment (just to make sure he didn't have any more outbursts), then said, "Now, I have a quick question regarding my working schedule…"

"Man the cannons, you fool!" he shouted, waving his hands into my face. In surprised, I stumbled backwards and fell smack-dab on my dainty behind, and then proceeded to crawl backwards rapidly as he advanced on me…only to run into something softer than the door.

I looked up to see a face I hardly recognized, but one that was staring down with amusement and pity…a face that looked very familiar. After glancing warily at Jack, I realized they were very similar, only this new face was blonde and a more square jaw…not to mention younger. I smiled, or at least attempted to smile.

"I want that deck spotless!" shouted Jack, sticking a finger in my face. I jumped at the sudden intrusion of my privacy, but whoever was above me took Jack by the shoulders and sat him on his bed.

"Time to go to sleep now," he said, trying to calm down the incoherent pirate. "Come on you old #$%."

I started at the casual way the man insulted Jack--even more surprised by the fondness I detected in the tone of his voice. It was weird.

But this interaction intrigued me, and therefore, I took a better look at him, immediately recognizing him as the one blonde guy who actually looked like he could sail (you know…not missing any vital limbs or anything like that…). And did I mention he was buff? And healthy looking? This guy was not your average decrepit pirate…like Jack. And his hygiene could rival Will's.

It wasn't until he cleared his throat and gave me a look that I realized I had been staring at him for a good full minute. With my usual grace and eloquence, I greeted him.

"Hey."

He cocked an eyebrow, which gave me a frightening reminder of Jack. Actually, now that I could see him up close, I realized he looked _very _much like Jack--even more than I had initially noticed. It was unnerving.

But, I do have to admit…the little changes between the two--blonde hair, square jaw, more buff, and green eyes (yes, I'm sure they were green)--did make him quite a bit more attractive than the sprawling drunk that Jack was at the moment. Naturally, I began to feel a little shy. Which is a bad thing.

Let me explain: when I become shy, I don't get all cutsie and girlie, like batting my eyelashes or blushing prettily or any of that crap. I close up. Completely. If I attempt speech, I stammer and slur my words, and have a tone that just sounds rude and annoyed. So I usually don't try talking. And I definitely don't look them in the eye, not to mention I fiddle with my fingers uncontrollably. When I do blush, it looks like I have a really bad sunburn.

Oh wait, I already had one of _those_. Nothing to worry about then…

"Hello," he answered finally. I glanced up and flitted a quick smile, but didn't really say anything more. After a good, long, awkward pause, he continued. "What are you doing here? I heard him screaming."

"I was going to talk with him…about working. I mean, how I was working. I…I mean…" I just stopped talking at this point and tried to reorganize my thoughts. "I mean, I wanted to talk to him about my working conditions."

The guy cocked his eyebrow again, and a faint smile could be seen. "Working conditions?"

"Yes, well, you see, he's been making me working outside all day in the sun like a pack animal."

The guy snorted. "You're lucky--outside is much better than in the ship itself."

I frowned, remembering Jack's comment from earlier this night, but insisted, "You don't understand; he's doing this out of revenge. And it's work I've never had to deal with before."

"He's just working you like anyone else."

" 'Anyone else' happens to be a sailor--do I look like a sailor?" The fact this man seemed to be defending Jack was beginning to get on my nerve, and my shyness was disappearing. How could anyone willingly side with Jack?

The guy grinned puckishly. "No, _you _definitely don't look like a sailor."

If it had been any other person, the comment could have been innocent--but I could tell from his tone (which was eerily similar to Jack's) that he was sticking in a double meaning. I set my jaw and glared accordingly.

Now that I was sufficiently annoyed, I asked the burning question. "Who are you?"

His grin widened, showing some decently maintained teeth. "Elias Stevens, at your service…miss…?" He looked at me inquisitively.

"Lyn. Evalyn."

"Miss Evalyn, then."

"You can just call me Lyn. Really."

"Miss Lyn."

"No…just Lynn. No miss."

"I insist," he answered. "Propriety and all."

I narrowed my eyes, debating whether or not he would actually care about propriety in the least. At the moment I couldn't decide, though I was biased against him simply because he just looked too much like Jack. I wanted to ask why…but how are you supposed to start that conversation without sounding totally awkward?

I took a stab at it anyway.

"You seem to know Jack well." My conversational tone was lacking--it sounded like I was interrogating him.

Elias took it with uncommon ease, however. "And I notice you're not calling him captain."

"I don't see him as a captain," I answered, figuring it was safe to say since Jack was, at the moment, snoring nosily on the bed. "Why is it you can just come in here? Even Gibbs knocks."

"Why can you just come in?"

"I knocked! And after what Jack forced me into, I have a perfect right to barge in if I please." I paused and glared at him again. "You're not the one asking the questions here."

"Who said I had to give answers?"

I huffed impatiently. "Fine. Be uncooperative. I'll just ask Gibbs or Anamaria about you. At least they'll give me a straight answer." I stalked over to the door, but not before tripping over a pile of discarded bottles and swearing as I stubbed my big toe.

I was about to exit with honorary embarrassment when he said, "We're half brothers."

That made me stop mid-stride. Half brothers? Half _brothers_? Jack had to at _least _be in his late thirties, if even that young, and Elias didn't look that old. Being the thoughtful and socially acceptable person I am, I blurted out, "No way! How old does that make you then?"

"I'm nineteen."

Liar. He couldn't be _nineteen_. THAT would be too much of an age gap.

And I made sure to inform him of such.

"That's impossible. Jack is way older than you. How would your mother manage to give birth to you after…what…twenty years?"

"We're both related through our father. He…got around." Elias grinned again, but a bit more sheepishly.

I still wasn't buying the whole 'nineteen' ordeal; seriously, that dude was ripped, and he looked way older than a teenager. But for the moment, I played along.

"Okay…then why do you have a different last name?"

"Didn't know my dad's until six years ago when Jack hunted us down. Heard his dad talk about us briefly, and since he hadn't mentioned any other kids, Jack got curious."

"And he made you a pirate."

"We lived in Tortuga, and I was poor. Not many options."

I was quiet after that comment.

"So…you wanted to talk to Jack about…working conditions?" The amusement was still more than obvious from his gaze, which was still frustrating, but now he sounded less mocking, which was hopeful.

I nodded. "He's already told me that he's doing this in order to 'keep an eye on me.'"

Elias got a knowing glint in his eye. "Yeah, Jack was telling me about that."

"About what?" Since when did pirates gossip?

"The Incident."

Oh.

"And…everything else, I suppose. For all we know, you could bring this ship down single-handedly."

Aww…look at him trying to be funny. Unfortunately, since it was well past sunset, and I was tired, I was not in the mood for any of this. In response, I frowned. "Lovely; Jack's already started pitting the crew against me. Well, Elias, it was pleasant talking to you, but seeing at Jack is now indispensable, I don't have much reason to stay. Goodnight. See you around."

He laughed at my mood. "We're on a ship--we're going to be seeing each other."

I didn't bother responding. What a smart-alec. Now there were two of them. Two Sparrows. Do you know what the definition of 'sparrow' is? A small grayish-brown bird. Grayish-brown for ugly and boring, and small for annoying. It described Jack perfectly. Only time would tell if it described Elias as well…


	17. The Boots

AN: Look! I'm updating! I am going to grovel to all your feet and beg for forgiveness for being so slow at starting this story again. Basically, I got a new computer, and the word processing totally wasn't compatible with my old one, and I finally manage to convert it over after strenuous amounts of frustration. Technology and I don't get along. To top it all off, I got a new story going, this time a HP fic, which I am psyched about. Personally, I would think it comparable to _All For You_, but that is my opinion, which is very biased since I am writing it. Regardless, I will be spending more time on this story...and eventually on _Given_, which I am having massive writers block on. For anyone interested, my new story is called _The Unconquerable Meryl Lane_.

Thank you to all who review, you give me reason to write.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

The next morning, the first thing I did was sneak into Jack's cabin and lay on his desk a "Why Drinking is Bad for You" pamphlet--courtesy of my school guidance consular, who I think would have been better employed guiding Jack.

After that, I wandered around for ten minutes until resigning to mop the deck, since I really had nothing better to do. I found this just a trifle annoying; Jack was knocked out still, and after so steadfastly trying to avoid this type of work, it seemed almost hypocritical to pick up the bucket and haul it out on deck. But, alas, the truth was it needed to be done, and if I had learned anything from this trip so far, it was you do not sit around and do nothing. Especially with Meg around.

So I mopped.

And it was just my luck that, thirty minutes into it, Elias found it his duty to come and prop himself up on a barrel and hold a conversation.

Another little interesting tid bit of information concerning none other than me: I DON'T talk when I'm working--I mean, working well. My mind tends to being a one-track thought process (obviously, I don't multi-task), and when I'm trying to do a good job on an assignment, that's the only thing I can do.

Yet I never had time to explain that to Elias.

"You're up early," he commented, still chewing on an apple. I had opted for an early, light breakfast this morning since my stomach had been upsetting me.

My response was grunt.

"You do realize Jack isn't up yet."

Another grunt.

"And you're still mopping?"

Grunt.

Elias leapt off the barrel and leaned over me. "You missed a spot."

I turned and glared at him before continuing.

It was silent for a minute, and I almost thought that Elias was going to leave and bug somebody else (he reminded me vividly of his half brother…which also happened to still freak me out a little). Almost. Then he spoke again.

"So…do you know Ashley well?"

That was the last straw.

" Not you too!" I yelped, nearly throwing the mop down in frustration. Not to make myself sound jealous or anything of Ashley's attention, but it was rather upsetting to see all the men on the ship bow down to her. Come on! I mean, it's not like I'd need a lot of it, but _I'd _like a little attention as well! It's intimidating to be overshadowed by another girl--certainly not a self-esteem booster.

I'm sure at different points in our lives, we realize that, in the end, the female sex is really engaged in a huge competition to the death. We live to win. Against each other. There is no prize, no brownie points for a particularly cute outfit or haircut, only the conformation from other females to being superior.

And I was _losing_.

Elias's expression showed all the confusion and dismay of any other man; of course they wouldn't understand, men didn't bother with "sizing each other up" the same way women did. "What on earth do you mean?"

"As if you don't notice," I grumbled, smacking the mop to the ground. "Ashley has been the focus of every other man on this ship since we left port. I should give you all a name. The Ashleyites. A collection of followers devoted to the sole purpose of spoiling Ashley Blake rotten and groveling at her feet."

"You don't like her?"

"NO! I love her! She's one of the coolest people I know. This does not change the fact that the entire ship is tied around her little finger. It's irritating."

Elias shook his head slowly. "Ashley…let me explain something about her that you may not have noticed. Ashley is…approachable."

I narrowed my eyes defensively. "How are Meg and I not approachable?"

Note that at this point, I had the mop raised like a club, and I was hunched over like a batter ready to hit the ball.

"Well…" Elias rubbed his neck worriedly, "both of you are very…out spoken. And the captain kind of warned everyone about you the first night out."

"ABOUT WHAT?"

"Just everything that had happened previous to your arrival to Tortuga."

Great! Jack was the reason none of the crew would speak to us! The past week or so had been mildly miserable only because I had felt slightly cut off from everyone else. He had planned it. I was sure of it.

I was going to get him.

Throwing down my mop, I stormed up to Jack's cabin, with Elias hot on my heels. "What are you doing?"

"Do you have any history of dueling for family honor and or revenge?" I asked pounding ferociously on the door.

"What? No."

"Good, because I'm about to kill your brother." I grabbed at the handle, but just at that moment, the door swung open to reveal Jack standing there, looking utterly wasted and disheveled, and holding my "Why Drinking is Bad for You" pamphlet loosely in his hand.

"What the *#& is this?" he grunted, shoving it in my face. "And where the #$%& did you get it?"

"Quit swearing at me and sit down," I ordered. "I have a bone to pick with you."

"_Another _ one," Jack stated, sending his eyes heavenward in frustration. "Elias, please do me the favor of escorting _her _toward her dear friends Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket and then join me at the helm with that concoction Cotton made up for me the other night. Lyn--whatever nonsense you have against me can wait until lunch time."

" Oh no it won't! Why in the world were you warning the crew about Meg and I? How on earth are we _dangerous_? We're two seventeen year old girls with no experience of any kind with any weapon etc."

I didn't get to see Jack expression (no doubt exasperation) because Elias had unceremoniously grabbed my waist and slung me over his shoulder. I also didn't bother screaming because at that moment, I noticed Ashley stomping over here with Meg and Will in tow, along with just about every other available male in the vicinity.

"Captain Sparrow, I have a small issue to address," hissed Ashley, looking like a harpy with her own uncombed hair and irritated eyes.

I glanced at Meg, who was giving me the "what-heck-are-you-doing?" look. I copied her look, and she just shrugged and pointed at Ashley's feet. They were bare.

Ouch. Splinters.

" My shoes are missing," she stated. "And as you have reminded me many times, you are the man in charge, so naturally I came here for an answer. You _better _provide me with one."

"Ahh, yes, darling Ashley. I'm glad you came to me," sighed Jack as he walked up and slung an arm around her waist.

Pervert.

" I went to bed early last night," she continued, "and went to sleep fairly quickly. I don't suppose you saw anyone leaving my room with my shoes? After all, since you _are _the man in charge, you should be completely and utterly aware of these things."

"Why would anyone take her shoes?" I asked. "And you can put me down, Elias."

" Don't let go of her," ordered Jack. "Unless _you _are the culprit, in which case--"

"We share a room. Where would I put them?"

"Ahh! Sharing a room! A perfect alibi!" exclaimed Jack, raising a finger and smiling triumphantly. "As for where you would put them, naturally you would attempt to frame someone else!"

Okay, considering it was still technically early morning, all this was just too weird for me to comprehend. But even if I had been fully function, it still would have made no sense. Ashley's shoes? Missing? WHY? And why me?

Something very suspicious was going on…

"Small problem, Jack," piped up Meg. "Lyn doesn't have a motive."

"And for that matter, why would anyone have a motive to stealing a pair of ladies boots?" I added, attempting to wiggle out of Elias's grasp. He grabbed my legs tighter and I gave up.

"To wear them?" offered a crew member.

Kudos for trying, mate.

"Revenge?" suggested Elias.

"Who on this ship holds a grudge against Ashley?" I asked. Elias turned slightly to give me a look, but I just rolled my eyes. Stealing shoes would be a stupid way to strike terror into the heart of any enemy worthy of revenge.

"Attention?" was Meg's idea.

"Yeah, like a little five year old child," I grumbled.

Jack looked mildly affronted, but continued anyway. "Okay, so we have eliminated Lyn as a suspect. Who has a room close to the three women?"

Oh. So _now _were women…as opposed to little girls.

"I do," said Will. "And so does Gibbs, I believe."

"Aha! Suspects!" He grinned proudly at Ashley, who was clever enough to look annoyed.

"If Will had been the one taking the shoes, why would he offer himself up?" Meg countered.

"Because he thought we would think him innocent for saying that he was close to the room of the victim. Reverse psychology."

"Reverse psychology does not function this early in the morning!" Meg answered, crossing her arms.

"It's only eight," yelled out a crew member.

Only eight. I would be asleep in bed on a Saturday if I were still at home; and it was a Saturday, and I wished I could be home. Obviously, that wasn't happening.

"This isn't solving what happened to my shoes," snapped Ashley, glaring at Jack and the surrounding men. "Personally, I don't think it was either Meg or Lyn, and certainly not Will, or Gibbs for that matter."

" Well, my love, why don't we test that hypothesis?" suggested Jack, grinning cheerfully--_too _cheerfully. Something was up. I could smell it…especially since he was only standing a few feet away (bathing is _still _a foreign concept to these people…).

Without another word, he strutted off below deck, with the rest of the crew in tow; if a navy vessel had wanted to take us without a fight, this would have been the time. I could just see the headline now:

"PIRATE CREW TAKEN WITHOUT STRUGGLE; SUCCESS GIVEN TO A PAIR OF BOOTS"

Thank heavens they don't have the _New York Times _here.

We arrived at Will's little cabin with Jack, Ashley, Meg, Will, Gibbs, Elias, Cotton, Anamaria, and I all smashing ourselves in; the rest of the peanut gallery remained outside in the hall.

"Now, the scene of the crime…" began Jack. He slipped behind the hammock and reappeared holding a pair of women's boots. "I believe these are yours."

The grin gracing his face was almost pitiful--too eager to please and wanting to be accepted.

HONESTLY? Even Jack? What was it with Ashley? WHY? I need an answer! _Because I don't get it_!!!

It appeared that Will was the ONLY male on this ship who wasn't entirely under Ashley's thumb, and I couldn't understand. Was it her charm? Last I checked, Ashley wasn't particularly _charming_…maybe clever and witty, but not charming. Her eyes? They were brown…just brown. Hair? Brown again! Whatever _it _was, the men here were crazy over it. There was no stopping them.

Wait, it gets worse.

"How did you know those were there?" asked Anamaria, suspiciously, crossing her arms.

Jack cleared his throat. "Intuition of the captain. Natural. I don't expect you to understand."

"Bull crap!" exclaimed Meg, coming next to Anamaria. "You would to have previously known that the boots were in Will's room to have found them so easily. This looks like a set up!"

At this point, Ashley lost her patience.

" You framed Will?!" she screamed, snatching her boots from Jack. "Why on earth would you frame _Will _for something like this? And why did you steal my boots?"

I restrained myself from jumping up and down yelling "I have the answer!" Because I knew full well why Jack did that--attention. From Ashley. I'm sure he saw it go differently in his head.

Jack raised his chin and crunched his eyebrows together. "You have no proof this was a set up."

" Oh, you mean _aside _from the fact that you knew exactly where they were, and that they _happened _to be in Will's room, and you just _happened _to have Will as a suspect," snarled Ashley, shoving her boots on. Then she turned to Will, the man of the hour, her expression significantly softened. "I never suspected you for an instant; I know you wouldn't be as base to steal my shoes."

Will blushed deeply and shuffled his feet. "Umm…thank you. I'm sorry about everything that's happened this morning. Even if I wasn't…really involved."

Enter sappy look from Ashley. Barf.

If looks could kill, Will would have been dead, with a barrage of daggers in his head and body. Jack was glowering with such hate and spite that I could feel it ten feet away. It was deadly. Revengeful. Murderous. And creeping me out.

"Okay, break time is over," yelled out Gibbs, motioning with his hands for the crew to move. "Back to work; this floating castle can't sail on her own."

It was at this moment of distraction that I slipped out of Elias' grasp rather ungracefully; he motioned to snatch me up again, but I held up my arms karate style. "No touchy."

"Jack…" he drawled. But I doubt Jack was really listening. He was standing straight and staring fixedly toward the departed Will and his posse (Ashley and Meg) with a sullen, haunted stare. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said he was mentally ill.

"Jack! We are talking. Now." I ran up to him and snagged his sleeve. He snapped his head down at me, flames almost leaping from his eyes.

I was a little frightened, and automatically, I cowered away, though I still was grasping his shirt arm. Up until now, I have seen him very, very angry, but not…deadly; Will really ought to be watching his back.

_All because of one stupid girl! _ Let me rephrase that (Ashley isn't stupid…): _all because of one…girl!_ I suppose by this point I ought to be expecting stuff like this to happen, especially since history is riddled with this particular issue (after all, how did the Trojan War start?). But why here? Why now? Why must it happen while I am present?

"Jack? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Leave."

He shoved me roughly to the ground and stormed out of the room, Elias hot on his heels. Well, I wasn't going to have any of that--if he had asked me nicely, I would have dropped the subject.

But no one can just push me around, thank you very much.

I stumbled after them until I had reached Jack, and I took his elbow. "Listen, _Captain_. All I want to do is try and…assist a little, but you really don't need to be--"

The next thing I saw were bright lights and the wooden floor, with a shooting pain from my head. Both Jack and Elias had stopped walking and were standing silently as statues. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I had been backhanded; not terribly hard, but hard enough to send me to the ground and bang my head (the falling part mostly to due my lack of balance...but that is irrelevant). When I finally got up, both were still there, stony faced.

As I said, no one can just push me around.

My anger at its breaking point, I raised my fist and gave Jack a good punch in the jaw before storming away to the galley.

* * *

" For the hundredth time, Lyn, _I'm sorry_."

The more forgiving side of me believed Jack; my very cynical side didn't. Unfortunately for Jack, because I was still extremely livid, it was my cynical side I was listening to.

He had dragged me up to his cabin after dinner--a very silent affair for myself. Meg knew I was angry, and also knew not to talk to me, though I did promise to explain after wards when we were alone. Elias, with his usual cocky attitude, thought it might be amusing to join us, and was now lounging carelessly on the bed, flipping a spare coin in the air thoughtlessly. Jack's original intentions had been to "straighten things out", though now it appeared it was mostly to apologize. Out of sight of the crew.

"Then please explain WHY you were so angry--to the point of HITTING me--about nothing in particular."

This must have been the fifth time I had asked the question, and once again, Jack turned away and brooded, mumbling incoherently to the side.

"Good grief!" I exclaimed, throwing myself back into my seat in irritation. "What is it with men and their egos?"

" And what makes _you _think you have all the answers?" Jack shot back, glancing at me testily.

" I'm not the criminal _master-mind _here, you are!"

" And just because _you _were dragged unwillingly into this little adventure does not make you supremely right, yeh little twit."

I narrowed his eyes at his odd choice of insult and opened my mouth to respond, but found very quickly I had nothing to say. Embarrassment flooded over, and after turning a beautifully crimson color in my face, I huffed indignantly and folded my arms.

But he wasn't done--all I can guess is that he had been storing this up inside of himself and had been waiting for the perfect moment to release it. "You know what your problem is, Lyn? You're too demanding. Both of you. And you are just plain too loud for women, or girls for that matter. Women are supposed to be soft and quiet and well-spoken and…pleasant. A rebel once in awhile is okay because it happens so little. Most women I have talked to like their position--I would suggest you two follow their examples."

" What you _really _don't like is that were individualistic," I countered. "I don't know why, and I don't know what threat it could possibly pose to you, but you're afraid of it."Jack rolled his eyes and flung himself into his large, very comfortable looking chair. Elias was snickering again, like the typical nineteen year old he was. "Just remember. _You_ brought us here."

"And I'd remove you if Will would give me a chance."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing that Meg was here with me. Had she heard this conversation, we could probably come up with some smart comment that would leave us laughing. But she wasn't here, and now Jack was bluntly making death threats toward us. "Maybe you'll be grateful that we're here," I tried weakly, but already, I could feel tears start to come toward the surface, which I worked very hard on suppressing.

"Never. All you've caused is trouble. First, you almost sink the ship, scratch up the mast, pick up a girl from Tortuga and drag her along, not to mention you're just about causing a riot with my crew."

Thankfully, it was too dark for him to see my very distressed face, but this causing a riot with the crew was just too much. "That's boloney. The crew doesn't give us a second glance."

Elias snorted. "You're too oblivious for you're own good, missy. You're a women on a ship full of men. Two very pretty girls are going to get the attention of men in that situation, hands down. They just don't say anything because it's clear Will is very protective of you both."

This was news for me. All of it. Had I been in a better mood, I would have been grateful that Will was bothering to even care about our situation, but at the moment, I was concerned about only one thing. "So basically, you'd like it if Meg and I chucked ourselves overboard?"

"_Basically_, to use your phrasing," conceded Jack.

That was it. I stood up, and with tears in my eyes, I choked out, "I didn't _want_ to come. I wanted to go home." Not able to say anything else, I turned and exited, but before I could go below deck, a hand whipped out and caught me. It was Elias.

He seemed to be sympathetic toward me, but I really didn't want to hear anything, and tried to shake him away. "Listen, Lyn. Jack has had a hard life...and it seems like this is his chance to improve things, for the first time in ten years. He's not totally there, you know."

I nodded, sighing. "I know."

If only I had an excuse like that.


End file.
